THE  BLA 


Stewart  Edward  Whit 


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White 

The  blazed  trail 


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The  forest,  so  mysterious  and  inviting 


THE 

BLAZED  TRAIL 

By 
Stewart  Edward  White 


GROSSET      &      DUNLAP 
New  York  Publishers 


printed  at  the  Country  Life  Press,  garden  city,  n.  y..  u.  s.  a. 


CL 

COPYRIGHT,  I002 

BY  STEWART  EDWARD  WHITB 

COPYRIGHT,  IOOI,  I002 

BY  S.  9.  MCCLURE  CO. 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


TO    MY   FATHER 

FROM   WHOSE   EARLY   PIONEER   LIFE 

ARE  DRAWN   MANY   OF 

HARRY   THORPE'S    EXPERIENCES 


CONTENTS 


PART  I 

PAGE 

The  Forest i 


PART  II 

The  Landlooker 145 

PART  III 

The  Blazing  of  the  Trail 231 

PART  IV 

Thorpe's  Dream  Girl „     .     .     337 

part  v 
The  Following  of  the  Trail 393 


PARTI 
THE  FOREST 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 


CHAPTER    ONE 

WHEN  history  has  granted  him  the  justice  of 
perspective,  we  shall  know  the  American 
Pioneer  as  one  of  the  most  picturesque  of  her  many 
figures.  Resourceful,  self-reliant,  bold;  adapting 
himself  with  fluidity  to  diverse  circumstances  and 
conditions;  meeting  with  equal  cheerfulness  of  con- 
fidence and  completeness  of  capability  both  un- 
known dangers  and  the  perils  by  which  he  has  been 
educated;  seizing  the  useful  in  the  lives  of  the  beasts 
and  men  nearest  him,  and  assimilating  it  with  mar- 
vellous rapidity;  he  presents  to  the  world  a  picture 
of  complete  adequacy  which  it  would  be  difficult  to 
match  in  any  other  walk  of  life.  He  is  a  strong 
man,  with  a  strong  man's  virtues  and  a  strong  man's 
vices.  In  him  the  passions  are  elemental,  the  dramas 
epic,  for  he  lives  in  the  age  when  men  are  close  to 
nature,  and  draw  from  her  their  forces.  He  satis- 
fies his  needs  direct  from  the  earth.  Stripped  of  all 
the  towns  can  give  him,  he  merely  resorts  to  a  facile 
substitution.     It  becomes  an  affair  of  rawhide  for 

3 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

leather,  buckskin  for  cloth,  venison  for  canned 
tomatoes.  We  feel  that  his  steps  are  planted  on 
solid  earth,  for  civilizations  may  crumble  without 
disturbing  his  magnificent  self-poise.  In  him  we 
perceive  dimly  his  environment.  He  has  something 
about  him  which  other  men  do  not  possess — a  frank 
clearness  of  the  eye,  a  swing  of  the  shoulder,  a  car- 
riage of  the  hips,  a  tilt  of  the  hat,  an  air  of  mus- 
cular well-being — which  marks  him  as  belonging 
to  the  advance  guard,  whether  he  wears  buckskin, 
mackinaw,  sombrero,  or  broadcloth.  The  woods 
are  there,  the  plains,  the  rivers.  Snow  is  there,  and 
the  line  of  the  prairie.  Mountain  peaks  and  still 
pine  forests  have  impressed  themselves  subtly;  so 
that  when  we  turn  to  admire  his  unconsciously 
graceful  swing,  we  seem  to  hear  the  ax  biting  the 
pine,  or  the  prospector's  pick  tapping  the  rock. 
And  in  his  eye  is  the  capability  of  quiet  humor, 
which  is  just  the  quality  that  the  surmounting  of 
many  difficulties  will  give  a  man. 

Like  the  nature  he  has  fought  until  he  under- 
stands, his  disposition  is  at  once  kindly  and  terrible. 
Outside  the  subtleties  of  his  calling,  he  sees  only 
/ed.  Relieved  of  the  strenuousness  of  his  occupa- 
tion, he  turns  all  the  force  of  the  wonderful  ener- 
gies that  have  carried  him  far  where  other  men 
would  have  halted,  to  channels  in  which  a  gentle 
current  makes  flood  enough.  It  is  the  mountain 
torrent  and  the  canal.    Instead  of  pleasure  he  seeks 

4 


THE    FOREST 

orgies.  He  runs  tG_wild  excesses  of  drinking,  fight- 
ing, and  carousing — which  would  frighten  most 
men  to  sobriety — with  a  happy,  reckless  spirit  that 
carries  him  beyond  the  limits  of  even  his  extraor- 
linary  forces. 

This  is  not  the  moment  to  judge  him.  And  yet 
one  cannot  help  admiring  the  magnificently  pictur- 
esque spectacle  of  such  energies  running  riot.  The 
power  is  still  in  evidence,  though  beyond  its  proper 
application. 


CHAPTER   TWO 

IN  the  network  of  streams  draining  the  eastern 
portion  of  Michigan  and  known  as  the  Saginaw 
waters,  the  great  firm  of  Morrison  &  Daly  had  for 
many  years  carried  on  extensive  logging  operations 
in  the  wilderness.  The  number  of  their  camps  was 
legion,  of  their  employees  a  multitude.  Each  spring 
they  had  gathered  in  their  capacious  booms  from 
thirty  to  fifty  million  feet  of  pine  logs. 

Now  at  last,  in  the  early  eighties,  they  reached 
the  end  of  their  holdings.  Another  winter  would 
finish  the  cut.  Two  summers  would  see  the  great 
mills  at  Beeson  Lake  dismantled  or  sold,  while  Mr. 
Daly,  the  "  woods  partner "  of  the  combination, 
would  flit  away  to  the  scenes  of  new  and  perhaps 
more  extensive  operations.  At  this  juncture  Mr. 
Daly  called  to  him  John  Radway,  a  man  whom 
he  knew  to  possess  extensive  experience,  a  little 
capital,  and  a  desire  for  more  of  both. 

"  Radway,"  said  he,  when  the  two  found  them- 
selves alone  in  the  mill  office,  "  we  expect  to  cut 
this  year  some  fifty  millions,  which  will  finish  our 
pine  holdings  in  the  Saginaw  waters.  Most  of  this 
timber  lies  over  in  the  Crooked  Lake  district,  and 

6 


THE  FOREST 

that  we  expect  to  put  in  ourselves.  We  own,  how- 
ever, five  million  on  the  Cass  Branch  which  we 
would  like  to  log  on  contract.  Would  you  care  to 
take  the  job?" 

"How  much  a  thousand  do  you  give?"  asked 
Radway. 

"  Four  dollars,"  replied  the  lumberman. 

"  I'll  look  at  it,"  replied  the  jobber. 

So  Radway  got  the  "  descriptions  "  and  a  little 
map  divided  into  townships,  sections,  and  quarter 
sections;  and  went  out  to  look  at  it.  He  searched 
until  he  found  a  "  blaze  "  on  a  tree,  the  marking 
on  which  indicated  it  as  the  corner  of  a  section. 
From  this  corner  the  boundary  lines  were  blazed  at 
right  angles  in  either  direction.  Radway  followed 
the  blazed  lines.  Thus  he  was  able  accurately  to 
locate  isolated  "forties"  (forty  acres),  "eighties," 
quarter  sections,  and  sections  in  a  primeval  wilder- 
ness. The  feat,  however,  required  considerable 
woodcraft,  an  exact  sense  of  direction,  and  a  pocket 
compass. 

These  resources  were  still  further  drawn  upon  for 
the  next  task.  Radway  tramped  the  woods,  hills, 
and  valleys  to  determine  the  most  practical  route 
over  which  to  build  a  logging  road  from  the  stand- 
ing timber  to  the  shores  of  Cass  Branch.  He  found 
it  to  be  an  affair  of  some  puzzlement.  The  pines 
stood  on  a  country  rolling  with  hills,  deep  with  pot- 
holes.    It  became  necessary  to  dodge  in  and  out, 

7 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

here  and  there,  between  the  knolls,  around  or 
through  the  swamps,  still  keeping,  however,  the 
same  general  direction,  and  preserving  always  the 
requisite  level  or  down  grade.  Radway  had  no 
vantage  point  from  which  to  survey  the  country. 
A  city  man  would  promptly  have  lost  himself  in  the 
tangle;  but  the  woodsman  emerged  at  last  on  the 
banks  of  the  stream,  leaving  behind  him  a  meander- 
ing trail  of  clipped  trees  that  wound,  twisted, 
doubled,  and  turned,  but  kept  ever  to  a  country 
without  steep  hills.  From  the  main  road  he  pur- 
posed arteries  to  tap  the  most  distant  parts. 

"  I'll  take  it,"  said  he  to  Daly. 

Now  Radway  happened  to  be  in  his  way  a  pecul- 
iar character.  He  was  acutely  sensitive  to  the  hu- 
man side  of  those  with  whom  he  had  dealings.  In 
fact,  he  was  more  inclined  to  take  their  point  of 
view  than  to  hold  his  own.  For  that  reason,  the 
subtler  disputes  were  likely  to  go  against  him.  His 
desire  to  avoid  coming  into  direct  collision  of  opin- 
ion with  the  other  man,  veiled  whatever  of  justice 
might  reside  in  his  own  contention.  Consequently  it 
was  difficult  for  him  to  combat  sophistry  or  a 
plausible  appearance  of  right.  Daly  was  perfectly 
aware  of  Radway's  peculiarities,  and  so  proceeded 
to  drive  a  sharp  bargain  with  him. 

Customarily  a  jobber  is  paid  a  certain  proportion 
of  the  agreed  price  as  each  stage  of  the  work  is  com- 
pleted— so  much  when  the  timber  is  cut;  so  much 

8 


THE  FOREST 

when  it  is  skidded,  or  piled;  so  much  when  it  is 
stacked  at  the  river,  or  banked;  so  much  when  the 
"  drive  "  down  the  waters  of  the  river  is  finished. 
Daly  objected  to  this  method  of  procedure. 

"  You  see,  Radway,"  he  explained,  "  it  is  our  last 
season  in  the  country.  When  this  lot  is  in,  we  want 
to  pull  up  stakes,  so  we  can't  take  any  chances  on 
not  getting  that  timber  in.  If  you  don't  finish  your 
job,  it  keeps  us  here  another  season.  There  can  be 
no  doubt,  therefore,  that  you  finish  your  job.  In 
other  words,  we  can't  take  any  chances.  If  you 
start  the  thing,  you've  got  to  carry  it  'way  through." 

"  I  think  I  can,  Mr.  Daly,"  the  jobber  assured 
him. 

"  For  that  reason,"  went  on  Daly,  "  we  object  to 
paying  you  as  the  work  progresses.  We've  got  to 
have  a  guarantee  that  you  don't  quit  on  us,  and  that 
those  logs  will  be  driven  down  the  branch  as  far  as 
the  river  in  time  to  catch  our  drive.  Therefore  I'm 
going  to  make  you  a  good  price  per  thousand,  but 
payable  only  when  the  logs  are  delivered  to  our 
rivermen." 

Radway,  with  his  usual  mental  attitude  of  one 
anxious  to  justify  the  other  man,  ended  by  seeing 
only  his  employer's  argument.  He  did  not  perceive 
that  the  latter's  proposition  introduced  into  the  trans- 
action a  gambling  element.  It  became  possible  for 
Morrison  &  Daly  to  get  a  certain  amount  of  work, 
short  of  absolute  completion,  done  for  nothing. 

9 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

How  much  does  the  timber  estimate?"  he  in- 
quired finally. 

"About  five  millions." 

"I'd  need  a  camp  of  forty  or  fifty  men  then.  I 
don't  see  how  I  can  run  such  a  camp  without  bor- 
rowing." 

"  You  have  some  money,  haven't  you"?  " 

"  Yes;  a  little.    But  I  have  a  family,  too." 

"  That's  all  right.  Now  look  here."  Daly  drew 
toward  him  a  sheet  of  paper  and  began  to  set  down 
figures  showing  how  the  financing  could  be  done. 
Finally  it  was  agreed.  Radway  was  permitted  to 
draw  on  the  Company's  warehouse  for  what  pro- 
visions he  would  need.  Daly  let  him  feel  it  as  a 
concession. 

All  this  was  in  August.  Radway,  who  was  a 
good  practical  woodsman,  set  about  the  job  im- 
mediately. He  gathered  a  crew,  established  his 
camp,  and  began  at  once  to  cut  roads  through  the 
country  he  had  already  blazed  on  his  former  trip. 

Those  of  us  who  have  ever  paused  to  watch  a 
group  of  farmers  working  out  their  road  taxes,  must 
have  gathered  a  formidable  impression  of  road- 
clearing.  And  the  few  of  us  who,  besides,  have 
experienced  the  adventure  of  a  drive  over  the  same 
highway  after  the  tax  has  been  pronounced  liqui- 
dated, must  have  indulged  in  varied  reflections  as  to 
the  inadequacy  of  the  result. 

Radway' s  task  was  not  merely  to  level  out  and 

10 


THE  FOREST 

ballast  the  six  feet  of  a  road-bed  already  con- 
structed, but  to  cut  a  way  for  five  miles  through  the 
unbroken  wilderness.  The  way  had  moreover  to  be 
not  less  than  twenty-five  feet  wide,  needed  to  be 
absolutely  level  and  free  from  any  kind  of  obstruc- 
tions, and  required  in  the  swamps  liberal  ballasting 
with  poles,  called  corduroys.  To  one  who  will  take 
the  trouble  to  recall  the  variety  of  woods,  thickets, 
and  jungles  that  go  to  make  up  a  wooded  country — 
especially  in  the  creek  bottoms  where  a  logging  road 
finds  often  its  levelest  way — and  the  piles  of  wind- 
falls, vines,  bushes,  and  scrubs  that  choke  the  thick- 
ets with  a  discouraging  and  inextricable  tangle,  the 
clearing  of  five  miles  to  street  width  will  look  like 
an  almost  hopeless  undertaking.  Not  only  must  the 
growth  be  removed,  but  the  roots  must  be  cut  out, 
and  the  inequalities  of  the  ground  levelled  or  filled 
up.  Reflect  further  that  Radway  had  but  a  brief 
time  at  his  disposal — but  a  few  months  at  most — ■ 
and  you  will  then  be  in  a  position  to  gauge  the  first 
difficulties  of  those  the  American  pioneer  expects  to 
encounter  as  a  matter  of  course.  The  cutting  of  the 
road  was  a  mere  incident  in  the  battle  with  the  wil- 
derness. 

The  jobber,  of  course,  pushed  his  roads  as  rapidly 
as  possible,  but  was  greatly  handicapped  by  lack  of 
men.  Winter  set  in  early  and  surprised  him  with 
several  of  the  smaller  branches  yet  to  finish.  The 
main  line,  however,  was  done. 

ii 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

At  intervals  squares  were  cut  out  alongside.  In 
them  two  long  timbers,  or  skids,  were  laid  andiron- 
wise  for  the  reception  of  the  piles  of  logs  which 
would  be  dragged  from  the  fallen  trees.  They  were 
called  skidways.  Then  finally  the  season's  cut 
began. 

The  men  who  were  to  fell  the  trees,  Radway  dis- 
tributed along  one  boundary  of  a  "  forty."  They 
were  instructed  to  move  forward  across  the  forty  in 
a  straight  line,  felling  every  pine  tree  over  eight 
inches  in  diameter.  While  the  "  saw-gangs,"  three 
in  number,  prepared  to  fell  the  first  trees,  other  men, 
called  "  swampers,"  were  busy  cutting  and  clearing 
of  roots  narrow  little  trails  down  through  the  forest 
from  the  pine  to  the  skidway  at  the  edge  of  the 
logging  road.  The  trails  were  perhaps  three  feet 
wide,  and  marvels  of  smoothness,  although  no  at- 
tempt was  made  to  level  mere  inequalities  of  the 
ground.  They  were  called  travoy  roads  (French 
travois).  Down  them  the  logs  would  be  dragged 
and  hauled,  either  by  means  of  heavy  steel  tongs  or 
a  short  sledge  on  which  one  end  of  the  timber  would 
be  chained. 

Meantime  the  sawyers  were  busy.  Each  pair  of 
men  selected  a  tree,  the  first  they  encountered  over 
the  blazed  line  of  their  "  forty."  After  determin- 
ing in  which  direction  it  was  to  fall,  they  set  to  work 
to  chop  a  deep  gash  in  that  side  of  the  trunk. 

Tom  Broadhead  and  Henry  Paul  picked  out  a 

12 


THE  FOREST 

tremendous  pine  which  they  determined  to  throw 
across  a  little  open  space  in  proximity  to  the  travoy 
road.  One  stood  to  right,  the  other  to  left,  and 
alternately  their  axes  bit  deep.  It  was  a  beautiful 
sight  this,  of  experts  wielding  their  tools.  The  craft 
of  the  woodsman  means  incidentally  such  a  free 
swing  of  the  shoulders  and  hips,  such  a  directness 
of  stroke  as  the  blade  of  one  sinks  accurately  in  the 
gash  made  by  the  other,  that  one  never  tires  of 
watching  the  grace  of  it.  Tom  glanced  up  as  a 
sailor  looks  aloft. 

"  She'll  do,  Hank,"  he  said. 

The  two  then  with  a  dozen  half  clips  of  the  ax, 
removed  the  inequalities  of  the  bark  from  the  saw's 
path.  The  long,  flexible  ribbon  of  steel  began  to 
sing,  bending  so  adaptably  to  the  hands  and  motions 
of  the  men  manipulating,  that  it  did  not  seem  pos- 
sible so  mobile  an  instrument  could  cut  the  rough 
pine.  In  a  moment  the  song  changed  timbre.  With- 
out a  word  the  men  straightened  their  backs.  Tom 
flirted  along  the  blade  a  thin  stream  of  kerosene  oil 
from  a  bottle  in  his  hip  pocket,  and  the  sawyers 
again  bent  to  their  work,  swaying  back  and  forth 
rhythmically,  their  muscles  rippling  under  the 
texture  of  their  woolens  like  those  of  a  panther 
under  its  skin.  The  outer  edge  of  the  saw-blade 
disappeared. 

"  Better  wedge  her,  Tom,"  advised  Hank. 

They  paused  while,  with  a  heavy  sledge,  Tom 

13 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

drove  a  triangle  of  steel  into  the  crack  made  by  the 
sawing.  This  prevented  the  weight  of  the  tree  from 
pinching  the  saw,  which  is  a  ruin  at  once  to  the 
instrument  and  the  temper  of  the  filer.  Then  the 
rhythmical  z-z-z!  z-z-z!  again  took  up  its  song. 

When  the  trunk  was  nearly  severed,  Tom  drove 
another  and  thicker  wedge. 

"  Timber  \"  hallooed  Hank  in  a  long-drawn 
melodious  call  that  melted  through  the  woods  into 
the  distance.  The  swampers  ceased  work  and  with- 
drew to  safety. 

But  the  tree  stood  obstinately  upright.  So  the 
saw  leaped  back  and  forth  a  few  strokes  more. 

"  Crack/  "  called  the  tree. 

Hank  coolly  unhooked  his  saw  handle,  and 
Tom  drew  the  blade  through  and  out  the  other 
side. 

The  tree  shivered,  then  leaned  ever  so  slightly 
from  the  perpendicular,  then  fell,  at  first  gently, 
afterwards  with  a  crescendo  rush,  tearing  through 
the  branches  of  other  trees,  bending  the  small  tim- 
ber, breaking  the  smallest,  and  at  last  hitting  with  a 
tremendous  crash  and  bang  which  filled  the  air  with 
a  fog  of  small  twigs,  needles,  and  the  powder  of 
snow,  that  settled  but  slowly.  There  is  nothing 
more  impressive  than  this  rush  of  a  pine  top,  ex- 
cepting it  be  a  charge  of  cavalry  or  the  fall  of 
Niagara.  Old  woodsmen  sometimes  shout  aloud 
with  the  mere  excitement  into  which  it  lifts  them. 

14 


THE  FOREST 

Then  the  swampers,  who  had  by  now  finished  the 
travoy  road,  trimmed  the  prostrate  trunk  clear  of  all 
protuberances.  It  required  fairly  skillful  ax  work. 
The  branches  had  to  be  shaved  close  and  clear,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  trunk  must  not  be  gashed 
And  often  a  man  was  forced  to  wield  his  instrument 
from  a  constrained  position. 

The  chopped  branches  and  limbs  had  now  to  be 
dragged  clear  and  piled.  While  this  was  being  fin- 
ished, Tom  and  Hank  marked  off  and  sawed  the  log 
lengths,  paying  due  attention  to  the  necessity  of 
avoiding  knots,  forks,  and  rotten  places.  Thus  some 
of  the  logs  were  eighteen,  some  sixteen,  or  fourteen, 
and  some  only  twelve  feet  in  length. 

Next  appeared  the  teamsters  with  their  little 
wooden  sledges,  their  steel  chains,  and  their  tongs. 
They  had  been  helping  the  skidders  to  place  the 
parallel  and  level  beams,  or  skids,  on  which  the  logs 
were  to  be  piled  by  the  side  of  the  road.  The  tree 
which  Tom  and  Hank  had  just  felled,  lay  up  a 
gentle  slope  from  the  new  travoy  road,  so  little 
Fabian  Laveque,  the  teamster,  clamped  the  bite  of 
his  tongs  to  the  end  of  the  largest,  or  butt,  log. 

"Allez,  Molly!"  he  cried. 

The  horse,  huge,  elephantine,  her  head  down,  nose 
close  to  her  chest,  intelligently  spying  her  steps, 
moved.  The  log  half  rolled  over,  slid  three  feet, 
and  menaced  a  stump. 

"  Gee !  "  cried  Laveque. 
15 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Molly  stepped  twice  directly  sideways,  planted 
her  fore  foot  on  a  root  she  had  seen,  and  pulled 
sharply.    The  end  of  the  log  slid  around  the  stump. 

"  Allez !  "  commanded  Laveque. 

And  Molly  started  gingerly  down  the  hill.  She 
pulled  the  timber,  heavy  as  an  iron  safe,  here  and 
there  through  the  brush,  missing  no  steps,  making  no 
false  moves,  backing,  and  finally  getting  out  of  the 
way  of  an  unexpected  roll  with  the  ease  and  intelli- 
gence of  Laveque  himself.  In  five  minutes  the  bur- 
den lay  by  the  travoy  road.  In  two  minutes  more 
one  end  of  it  had  been  rolled  on  the  little  flat 
wooden  sledge  and,  the  other  end  dragging,  it  was 
winding  majestically  down  through  the  ancient  for- 
est. The  little  Frenchman  stood  high  on  the  for- 
ward end.  Molly  stepped  ahead  carefully,  with  the 
strange  intelligence  of  the  logger's  horse.  Through 
the  tall,  straight,  decorative  trunks  of  trees  the  little 
convoy  moved  with  the  massive  pomp  of  a  dead 
warrior's  cortege.  And  little  Fabian  Laveque, 
singing,  a  midget  in  the  vastness,  typified  the 
indomitable  spirit  of  these  conquerors  of  a  wil- 
derness. 

When  Molly  and  Fabian  had  travoyed  the  log  to 
the  skidway,  they  drew  it  with  a  bump  across  the 
two  parallel  skids,  and  left  it  there  to  be  rolled  to 
the  top  of  the  pile. 

Then  Mike  McGovern  and  Bob  Stratton  and  Jim 
Gladys  took  charge  of  it.    Mike  and  Bob  were  run- 

16 


THE  FOREST 

ning  the  cant-hooks,  while  Jim  stood  on  top  of  the 
great  pile  of  logs  already  decked.  A  slender,  pliable 
steel  chain,  like  a  gray  snake,  ran  over  the  top  of  the 
pile  and  disappeared  through  a  pulley  to  an  in- 
visible horse — Jenny,  the  mate  of  Molly.  Jim 
threw  the  end  of  this  chain  down.  Bob  passed  it 
over  and  under  the  log  and  returned  it  to  Jim,  who 
reached  down  after  it  with  the  hook  of  his  imple- 
ment. Thus  the  stick  of  timber  rested  in  a  long 
loop,  one  end  of  which  led  to  the  invisible  horse, 
and  the  other  Jim  made  fast  to  the  top  of  the  pile. 
He  did  so  by  jamming  into  another  log  the  steel 
swamp-hook  with  which  the  chain  was  armed. 
When  all  was  made  fast,  the  horse  started. 

"She's  a  bumper!"  said  Bob.  "Look  out, 
Mike!" 

The  log  slid  to  the  foot  of  the  two  parallel  poles 
laid  slanting  up  the  face  of  the  pile.  Then  it  trem- 
bled on  the  ascent.  But  one  end  stuck  for  an  in- 
stant, and  at  once  the  log  took  on  a  dangerous  slant. 
Quick  as  light  Bob  and  Mike  sprang  forward, 
gripped  the  hooks  of  the  cant-hooks,  like  great 
thumbs  and  forefingers,  and,  while  one  held  with  all 
his  power,  the  other  gave  a  sharp  twist  upward. 
The  log  straightened.  It  was  a  master  feat  of 
power,  and  the  knack  of  applying  strength  justly. 

At  the  top  of  the  little  incline,  the  timber  hovered 
for  a  second. 

"  One  more !  "  sang  out  Jim  to  the  driver.  He 
17 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

poised,  stepped  lightly  up  and  over,  and  avoided  by 
the  safe  hair's  breadth  being  crushed  when  the  log 
rolled.  But  it  did  not  lie  quite  straight  and  even. 
So  Mike  cut  a  short  thick  block,  and  all  three  stirred 
the  heavy  timber  sufficiently  to  admit  of  the  billet's 
insertion. 

Then  the  chain  was  thrown  down  for  another. 

Jenny,  harnessed  only  to  a  straight  short  bar  with 
a  hook  in  it,  leaned  to  her  collar  and  dug  in  her 
hoofs  at  the  word  of  command.  The  driver,  close 
to  her  tail,  held  fast  the  slender  steel  chain  by  an 
ingenious  hitch  about  the  ever-useful  swamp-hook. 
When  Jim  shouted  "  whoa!  "  from  the  top  of  the 
skidway,  the  driver  did  not  trouble  to  stop  the  horse 
— he  merely  let  go  the  hook.  So  the  power  was  shut 
off  suddenly,  as  is  meet  and  proper  in  such  ticklish 
business.  He  turned  and  walked  back,  and  Jenny, 
like  a  dog,  without  the  necessity  of  command,  fol- 
lowed him  in  slow  patience. 

Now  came  Dyer,  the  scaler,  rapidly  down  the  log- 
ging road,  a  small  slender  man  with  a  little,  turned- 
up  mustache.  The  men  disliked  him  because  of  his 
affectation  of  a  city  smartness,  and  because  he  never 
ate  with  them,  even  when  there  was  plenty  of  room. 
Radway  had  confidence  in  him  because  he  lived  in 
the  same  shanty  with  him.  This  one  fact  a  good 
deal  explains  Radway's  character.  The  scaler's 
duty  at  present  was  to  measure  the  diameter  of  the 
logs  in  each  skidway,  and  so  compute  the  number  of 

18 


THE  FOREST 

board  feet.  At  the  office  he  tended  van,  kept  the 
books,  and  looked  after  supplies. 

He  approached  the  skidway  swiftly,  laid  his  flex- 
ible rule  across  the  face  of  each  log,  made  a  mark 
on  his  pine  tablets  in  the  column  to  which  the  log 
belonged,  thrust  the  tablet  in  the  pocket  of  his  coat, 
seized  a  blue  crayon,  in  a  long  holder,  with  which 
he  made  an  8  as  indication  that  the  log  had  been 
scaled,  and  finally  tapped  several  times  strongly 
with  a  sledge  hammer.  On  the  face  of  the  hammer 
in  relief  was  an  M  inside  of  a  delta.  This  was  the 
Company's  brand,  and  so  the  log  was  branded  as 
belonging  to  them.  He  swarmed  all  over  the  skid- 
way,  rapid  and  absorbed,  in  strange  contrast  of 
activity  to  the  slower  power  of  the  actual  skidding. 
In  a  moment  he  moved  on  to  the  next  scene  of 
operations  without  having  said  a  word  to  any  of 
the  men. 

"A  fine  t'ing!  "  said  Mike,  spitting. 

So  day  after  day  the  work  went  on.  Radway 
spent  his  time  tramping  through  the  woods,  figuring 
on  new  work,  showing  the  men  how  to  do  things 
better  or  differently,  discussing  minute  expedients 
with  the  blacksmith,  the  carpenter,  the  cook. 

He  was  not  without  his  troubles.  First  he  had 
not  enough  men;  the  snow  lacked,  and  then  came 
too  abundantly;  horses  fell  sick  of  colic  or  caulked 
themselves;  supplies  rar>  low  unexpectedly;  trees 
turned  out  "  punk  "  :  a  certain  bit  of  ground  proved 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

soft  for  travoying,  and  so  on.    At  election-time,  of 
course,  a  number  of  the  men  went  out. 

And  one  evening,  two  days  after  election-time, 
another  and  important  character  entered  the  North* 
Woods  and  our  story. 


20 


CHAPTER   THREE 

ON  the  evening  in  question,  some  thirty  or  forty 
miles  southeast  of  Rad way's  camp,  a  train 
was  crawling  over  a  badly  laid  track  which  led 
toward  the  Saginaw  Valley.  The  whole  affair  was 
very  crude.  To  the  edge  of  the  right-of-way  pushed 
the  dense  swamp,  like  a  black  curtain  shutting  the 
virgin  country  from  the  view  of  civilization.  Even 
by  daylight  the  sight  could  have  penetrated  but  a 
few  feet.  The  right-of-way  itself  was  rough  with 
upturned  stumps,  blackened  by  fire,  and  gouged  by 
many  and  varied  furrows.  Across  the  snow  were 
tracks  of  animals. 

The  train  consisted  of  a  string  of  freight  cars, 
one  coach  divided  half  and  half  between  baggage 
and  smoker,  and  a  day  car  occupied  by  two  silent, 
awkward  women  and  a  child.  In  the  smoker 
lounged  a  dozen  men.  They  were  of  various  sizes 
and  descriptions,  but  they  all  wore  heavy  blanket 
mackinaw  coats,  rubber  shoes,  and  thick  German 
socks  tied  at  the  knee.  This  constituted,  as  it  were, 
a  sort  of  uniform.  The  air  was  so  thick  with  smoke 
that  the  men  had  difficulty  in  distinguishing  objects 
across  the  length  of  the  car. 

21 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

The  passengers  sprawled  in  various  attitudes. 
Some  hung  their  legs  over  the  arms  of  the  seats; 
others  perched  their  feet  on  the  backs  of  the  seats  in 
front;  still  others  slouched  in  corners,  half  reclining. 
Their  occupations  were  as  diverse.  Three  nearest 
the  baggage-room  door  attempted  to  sing,  but  with- 
out much  success.  A  man  in  the  corner  breathed 
softly  through  a  mouth  organ,  to  the  music  of  which 
his  seat  mate,  leaning  his  head  sideways,  gave  close 
attention.  One  big  fellow  with  a  square  beard  swag- 
gered back  and  forth  down  the  aisle  offering  to 
everyone  refreshment  from  a  quart  bottle.  It  was 
rarely  refused.  Of  the  dozen,  probably  three  quar- 
ters were  more  or  less  drunk. 

After  a  time  the  smoke  became  too  dense.  A 
short,  thick-set  fellow  with  an  evil  dark  face  coolly 
thrust  his  heel  through  a  window.  The  conductor, 
who,  with  the  brakeman  and  baggage  master,  was 
seated  in  the  baggage  van,  heard  the  jingle  of  glass. 
He  arose. 

"  Guess  I'll  take  up  tickets,"  he  remarked.  "  Per- 
haps it  will  quiet  the  boys  down  a  little." 

The  conductor  was  a  big  man,  raw-boned  and 
broad,  with  a  hawk  face.  His  every  motion  showed 
lean,  quick,  panther-like  power. 

"  Let  her  went,"  replied  the  brakeman,  rising  as  a 
matter  of  course  to  follow  his  chief. 

The  brakeman  was  stocky,  short,  and  long  armed. 
In  the  old  fighting  days  Michigan  railroads  chose 

22 


THE  FOUEST 

their  train  officials  with  an  eye  to  their  superior  ' 
deltoids.    A  conductor  who  could  not  throw  an  un- 
desirable fare  through  a  car  window  lived  a  short 
official  life.     The  two  men  loomed  on  the  noisy 
smoking  compartment. 

"  Tickets,  please !  "  clicked  the  conductor  sharply. 

Most  of  the  men  began  to  fumble  about  in  their 
pockets,  but  the  three  singers  and  the  one  who  had 
been  offering  the  quart  bottle  did  not  stir. 

"Ticket,  Jack!  "  repeated  the  conductor,  "come 
on,  now." 

The  big  bearded  man  leaned  uncertainly  against 
the  seat. 

"  Now  look  here,  Bud,"  he  urged  in  wheedling 
tones,  "  I  ain't  got  no  ticket.  You  know  how  it  is, 
Bud.  I  blows  my  stake."  He  fished  uncertainly  in 
his  pocket  and  produced  the  quart  bottle,  nearly 
empty,  "  Have  a  drink*?  " 
!      "  No,"  said  the  conductor  sharply. 

"  A'  right,"  replied  Jack,  amiably,  "  take  one 
myself."  He  tipped  the  bottle,  emptied  it,  and 
hurled  it  through  a  window.  The  conductor  paid  no 
apparent  attention  to  the  breaking  of  the  glass. 

"  If  you  haven't  any  ticket,  you'll  have  to  get 
off,"  said  he. 

The  big  man  straightened  up. 
'  You  go  to  hell !  "  he  snorted,  and  with  the  sole 
of  his  spiked  boot  delivered  a  mighty  kick  at  the 
conductor's  thigh. 

23 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

The  official,  agile  as  a  wild  cat,  leaped  back,  then 
forward,  and  knocked  the  man  half  the  length  of 
the  car.  You  see,  he  was  used  to  it.  Before  Jack 
could  regain  his  feet  the  official  stood  over  him. 

The  three  men  in  the  corner  had  also  risen,  and 
were  staggering  down  the  aisle  intent  on  battle.  The 
conductor  took  in  the  chances  with  professional 
rapidity. 

"  Get  at  'em,  Jimmy,"  said  he. 

And  as  the  big  man  finally  swayed  to  his  feet,  he 
was  seized  by  the  collar  and  trousers  in  the  grip 
known  to  "  bouncers  "  everywhere,  hustled  to  the 
door,  which  some  one  obligingly  opened,  and  hurled 
from  the  moving  train  into  the  snow.  The  con- 
ductor did  not  care  a  straw  whether  the  obstreperous 
Jack  lit  on  his  head  or  his  feet,  hit  a  snowbank  or  a 
pile  of  ties.  Those  were  rough  days,  and  the 
preservation  of  authority  demanded  harsh  measures. 

Jimmy  had  got  at  'em  in  a  method  of  his  own. 
He  gathered  himself  into  a  ball  of  potential  trouble, 
and  hurled  himself  bodily  at  the  legs  of  his  oppo- 
nents which  he  gathered  in  a  mighty  bear  hug.  It 
would  have  been  poor  fighting  had  Jimmy  to  carry 
the  affair  to  a  finish  by  himself,  but  considered  as  an 
expedient  to  gain  time  for  the  ejectment  proceed- 
ings, it  was  admirable.  The  conductor  returned  to 
find  a  kicking,  rolling,  gouging  mass  of  kinetic 
energy  knocking  the  varnish  off  all  one  end  of  the 
car.     A  head  appearing,  he  coolly  batted  it  three 

24 


THE  FOREST 

times  against  a  corner  of  the  seat  arm,  after  which 
he  pulled  the  contestant  out  by  the  hair  and  threw 
him  into  a  seat  where  he  lay  limp.  Then  it  could 
be  seen  that  Jimmy  had  clasped  tight  in  his  embrace 
a  leg  each  of  the  other  two.  He  hugged  them  close 
to  his  breast,  and  jammed  his  face  down  against 
them  to  protect  his  features.  They  could  pound 
the  top  of  his  head  and  welcome.  The  only  thing 
he  really  feared  was  a  kick  in  the  side,  and  for  that 
there  was  hardly  room. 

The  conductor  stood  over  the  heap,  at  a  manifest 
advantage. 

"  You  lumber- jacks  had  enough,  or  do  you  want 
to  catch  it  plenty?  " 

The  men,  drunk  though  they  were,  realized  their 
helplessness.  They  signified  they  had  had  enough. 
Jimmy  thereupon  released  them  and  stood  up, 
brushing  down  his  tousled  hair  with  his  stubby 
fingers. 

"  Now  is  it  ticket  or  bounce?  "  inquired  the  con- 
ductor. 

After  some  difficulty  and  grumbling,  the  two  paid 
their  fare  and  that  of  the  third,  who  was  still  dazed. 
In  return  the  conductor  gave  them  slips.  Then  he 
picked  his  lantern  from  the  overhead  rack  whither 
he  had  tossed  it,  slung  it  on  his  left  arm,  and  saun- 
tered on  down  the  aisle  punching  tickets.  Behind 
him  followed  Jimmy.  When  he  came  to  the  door 
lie  swung  across  the  platform  with  the  easy  lurch 

25 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

uf  the  trainman,  and  entered  the  other  car,  where 
he  took  the  tickets  of  the  two  women  and  the  boy. 
One  sitting  in  the  second  car  would  have  been 
unable  to  guess  from  the  bearing  or  manner  of  the 
two  officials  that  anything  had  gone  wrong. 

The  interested  spectators  of  the  little  drama  in* 
eluded  two  men  near  the  water-cooler  who  were 
perfectly  sober.  One  of  them  was  perhaps  a  little 
past  the  best  of  life,  but  still  straight  and  vigorous. 
His  lean  face  was  leather-brown  in  contrast  to  a 
long  mustache  and  heavy  eyebrows  bleached  nearly 
white,  his  eyes  were  a  clear  steady  blue,  and  his 
frame  was  slender  but  wiry.  He  wore  the  regula- 
tion mackinaw  blanket  coat,  a  peaked  cap  with  an 
extraordinarily  high  crown,  and  buckskin  moccasins 
over  long  stockings. 

The  other  was  younger,  not  more  than  twenty-six 
perhaps,  with  the  clean-cut,  regular  features  we  have 
come  to  consider  typically  American.  Eyebrows 
that  curved  far  down  along  the  temples,  and  eye- 
lashes of  a  darkness  in  contrast  to  the  prevailing 
note  of  his  complexion  combined  to  lend  him  a 
rather  brooding,  soft,  and  melancholy  air  which  a 
very  cursory  second  examination  showed  to  be  fic- 
titious. His  eyes,  like  the  woodsman's,  were  steady, 
but  inquiring.  His  jaw  was  square  and  settled,  his 
mouth  straight.  One  would  be  likely  to  sum  him 
up  as  a  man  whose  actions  would  be  little  influenced 
by  glamour  or  even  by  the  sentiments.     And  yet, 

26 


THE  FOREST 

equally,  it  was  difficult  to  rid  the  mind  of  the  im- 
pression produced  by  his  eyes.  Unlike  the  other  in- 
mates of  the  car,  he  wore  an  ordinary  business  suit, 
somewhat  worn,  but  of  good  cut,  and  a  style  that 
showed  even  over  the  soft  flannel  shirt.  The 
trousers  were,  however,  bound  inside  the  usual  socks 
and  rubbers. 

The  two  seat-mates  had  occupied  their  time  each 
in  his  own  fashion.  To  the  elder  the  journey  was 
an  evil  to  be  endured  with  the  patience  learned  in 
watching  deer  runways,  so  he  stared  straight  before 
him,  and  spat  with  a  certain  periodicity  into  the 
centre  of  the  aisle.  The  younger  stretched  back 
lazily  in  an  attitude  of  ease  which  spoke  of  the  habit 
of  travelling.  Sometimes  he  smoked  a  pipe.  Thrice 
he  read  over  a  letter.  It  was  from  his  sister,  and 
announced  her  arrival  at  the  little  rural  village  in 
which  he  had  made  arrangements  for  her  to  stay. 
"  It  is  interesting — now,"  she  wrote,  "  though  the 
resources  do  not  look  as  though  they  would  wear 
well.  I  am  learning  under  Mrs.  Renwick  to  sweep 
and  dust  and  bake  and  stew  and  do  a  multitude  of 
other  things  which  I  always  vaguely  supposed  came 
ready-made.  I  like  it;  but  after  I  have  learned  it 
ill,  I  do  not  believe  the  practice  will  appeal  to  me 
much.  However,  I  can  stand  it  well  enough  for  a 
year  or  two  or  three,  for  I  am  young;  and  then  you 
^yill  have  made  your  everlasting  fortune,  of  course." 

Harry  Thorpe  experienced  a  glow  of  pride  each 
27 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

time  he  read  this  part  of  the  letter.  He  liked  the 
frankness  of  the  lack  of  pretence;  he  admired  the 
penetration  and  self-analysis  which  had  taught  her 
the  truth  that,  although  learning  a  new  thing  is 
always  interesting,  the  practising  of  an  old  one  is 
monotonous.  And  her  pluck  appealed  to  him.  It  is 
not  easy  for  a  girl  to  step  from  the  position  of  mis- 
tress of  servants  to  that  of  helping  about  the  house- 
work of  a  small  family  in  a  small  town  for  the  sake 
of  the  home  to  be  found  in  it. 

"  She's  a  trump!  "  said  Thorpe  to  himself,  "  and 
she  shall  have  her  everlasting  fortune,  if  there's  such 
a  thing  in  the  country." 

He  jingled  the  three  dollars  and  sixty  cents  in  his 
pocket,  and  smiled.  That  was  the  extent  of  his 
everlasting  fortune  at  present. 

The  letter  had  been  answered  from  Detroit. 

"I  am  glad  you  are  settled,"  he  wrote.  " At 
least  I  know  you  have  enough  to  eat  and  a  roof  over 
you.  I  hope  sincerely  that  you  will  do  your  best  to 
fit  yourself  to  your  new  conditions.  I  know  it  is 
hard,  but  with  my  lack  of  experience  and  my  igno- 
rance as  to  where  to  take  hold,  it  may  be  a  good 
many  years  before  we  can  do  any  better." 

When  Helen  Thorpe  read  this,  she  cried.  Things 
had  gone  wrong  that  morning,  and  an  encouraging 
word  would  have  helped  her.  The  sombre  tone  of 
her  brother's  communication  threw  her  into  a  fit  of 
the  blues  from  which,  for  the  first  time,  she  saw  he* 

28 


THE  FOREST 

surroundings  in  a  depressing  and  distasteful  light. 
And  yet  he  had  written  as  he  did  with  the  kindest 
possible  motives. 

Thorpe  had  the  misfortune  to  be  one  of  those 
individuals  who,  though  careless  of  what  people  in 
general  may  think  of  them,  are  in  a  corresponding 
degree  sensitive  to  the  opinion  of  the  few  they  love. 
This  feeling  was  further  exaggerated  by  a  constitu- 
tional shrinking  from  any  outward  manifestation  of 
the  emotions.  As  a  natural  result,  he  was  often 
thought  indifferent  or  discouraging  when  in  reality 
his  natural  affections  were  at  their  liveliest.  A  fail- 
ure to  procure  for  a  friend  certain  favors  or  pleasures 
dejected  him,  not  only  because  of  that  friend's  dis- 
appointment, but  because,  also,  he  imagined  the 
failure  earned  him  a  certain  blame.  Blame  from  his 
heart's  intimates  he  shrank  from.  His  life  outside 
the  inner  circles  of  his  affections  was  apt  to  be  so 
militant  and  so  divorced  from  considerations  of 
amity,  that  as  a  matter  of  natural  reaction  he  be- 
came inclined  to  exaggerate  the  importance  of  small 
objections,  little  reproaches,  slight  criticisms  from 
his  real  friends.  Such  criticisms  seemed  to  bring 
into  a  sphere  he  would  have  liked  to  keep  solely  for 
the  mutual  reliance  of  loving  kindness,  something 
of  the  hard  utilitarianism  of  the  world  at  large.  In 
consequence  he  gradually  came  to  choose  the  line 
of  least  resistance,  to  avoid  instinctively  even  the 
slightly  disagreeable.     Perhaps  for  this  reason  he 

29 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

was  never  entirely  sincere  with  those  he  loved.  Ht 
never  gave  assent  to,  manifested  approval  of,  of 
showed  enthusiasm  over  any  plan  suggested  by  them, 
for  the  reason  that  he  never  dared  offer  a  merely 
problematical  anticipation.  The  affair  had  to  be 
absolutely  certain  in  his  own  mind  before  he  ven- 
tured to  admit  any  one  to  the  pleasure  of  looking 
forward  to  it — and  simply  because  he  so  feared  the 
disappointment  in  case  anything  should  go  wrong. 
He  did  not  realize  that  not  only  is  the  pleasure  of 
anticipation  often  the  best,  but  that  even  disappoint- 
ment, provided  it  happen  through  excusable  causes, 
strengthens  the  bonds  of  affection  through  sympathy. 
We  do  not  want  merely  results  from  a  friend — 
merely  finished  products.  We  like  to  be  in  at  the 
making,  even  though  the  product  spoil. 

This  unfortunate  tendency,  together  with  his  re- 
serve, lent  him  the  false  attitude  of  a  rathei  cold, 
self-centred  man,  discouraging  suggestions  at  first 
only  to  adopt  them  later  in  the  most  inexplicable 
fashion,  and  conferring  favors  in  a  ready-made 
impersonal  manner  which  destroyed  utterly  their 
quality  as  favors.  In  reality  his  heart  hungered  for 
the  affection  which  this  false  attitude  generally  re- 
pelled. He  threw  the  wet  blanket  of  doubt  over 
warm  young  enthusiasms  because  his  mind  worked 
with  a  certain  deliberateness  which  did  not  at  once 
permit  him  to  see  the  practicability  of  the  scheme. 
Later  he  would  approve.     But  by  that  time,  prob* 

30 


THE  FOREST 

ably,  the  wet  blanket  had  effectually  extinguished 
the  glow.  You  cannot  always  savor  your  pleasures 
cold. 

So  after  the  disgrace  of  his  father,  Karry  Thorpe 
did  a  great  deal  of  thinking  and  planning  which  he 
kept  carefully  to  himself.  He  considered  in  turn 
the  different  occupations  to  which  he  could  turn  his 
hand,  and  negatived  them  one  by  one.  Few  business 
firms  would  care  to  employ  the  son  of  as  shrewd  an 
embezzler  as  Henry  Thorpe.  Finally  he  came  to  a 
decision.  He  communicated  this  decision  to  his 
sister.  It  would  have  commended  itself  more  logic- 
ally to  her  had  she  been  able  to  follow  step  by  step 
the  considerations  that  had  led  her  brother  to  it.  As 
the  event  turned,  she  was  forced  to  accept  it  blindly. 
She  knew  that  her  brother  intended  going  West,  but 
as  to  his  hopes  and  plans  she  was  in  ignorance.  A 
little  sympathy,  a  little  mutual  understanding  Would 
have  meant  a  great  deal  to  her,  for  a  girl  whose 
mother  she  but  dimly  remembers,  turns  naturally  to 
her  next  of  kin.  Helen  Thorpe  had  always  admired 
her  brother,  but  had  never  before  needed  him.  She 
had  looked  upon  nim  as  strong,  self-contained,  a 
little  moody.  Now  the  tone  of  his  letter  caused  her 
to  wonder  whether  he  were  not  also  a  trifle  hard  and 
cold.  So  she  wept  on  receiving  it,  and  the  tears 
watered  the  ground  for  discontent. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  row  in  the  smoking  car, 
Thorpe  laid  aside  his  letter  and  watched  with  keen 

3i 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

appreciation  the  direct  practicality  of  the  trainmen's 
method.  When  the  bearded  man  fell  before  the 
conductor's  blow,  he  turned  to  the  individual  at  his 
side. 

"  He  knows  how  to  hit,  doesn't  he !  "  he  observed. 
"  That  fellow  was  knocked  well  off  his  feet." 

"  He  does,"  agreed  the  other  dryly. 

They  fell  into  a  desultory  conversation  of  fits  and 
starts.  Woodsmen  of  the  genuine  sort  are  never 
talkative;  and  Thorpe,  as  has  been  explained,  was 
constitutionally  reticent.  In  the  course  of  their  dis- 
jointed remarks  Thorpe  explained  that  he  was  look- 
ing for  work  in  the  woods,  and  intended,  first  of  all, 
to  try  the  Morrison  &  Daly  camps  at  Beeson  Lake. 

"  Know  anything  about  logging*?  "  inquired  the 
stranger. 

"  Nothing,"  Thorpe  confessed. 

"  Ain't  much  show  for  anything  but  lumber-jacks. 
What  did  you  think  of  doing?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Thorpe,  doubtfully.  "  I 
have  driven  horses  a  good  deal;  I  thought  I  might 
drive  team." 

The  woodsman  turned  slowly  and  looked  Thorpe 
over  with  a  quizzical  eye.  Then  he  faced  to  the 
front  again  and  spat. 

"  Quite  like,"  he  replied  still  more  dryly. 

The  boy's  remark  had  amused  him,  and  he  had 
showed  it,  as  much  as  he  ever  showed  anything.  Ex- 
cepting always  the  riverman,  the  driver  of  a  team 

32 


THE  FOREST 

commands  the  highest  wages  among  out-of-door 
workers.  He  has  to  be  able  to  guide  his  horses  by- 
little  steps  over,  through,  and  around  slippery  and 
bristling  difficulties.  He  must  acquire  the  knack  of 
facing  them  square  about  in  their  tracks.  He  must 
hold  them  under  a  control  that  will  throw  into  their 
collars,  at  command,  from  five  pounds  to  their  full 
power  of  pull,  lasting  from  five  seconds  to  five  min- 
utes. And  above  all,  he  must  be  able  to  keep  them 
out  of  the  way  of  tremendous  loads  of  logs  on  a 
road  which  constant  sprinkling  has  rendered  smooth 
and  glassy,  at  the  same  time  preventing  the  long 
tongue  from  sweeping  them  bodily  against  leg- 
breaking  debris  when  a  curve  in  the  road  is  reached. 
It  is  easier  to  drive  a  fire-engine  than  a  logging  team. 

But  in  spite  of  the  naivete  of  the  remark,  the 
woodsman  had  seen  something  in  Thorpe  he  liked. 
Such  men  become  rather  expert  in  the  reading  of 
character,  and  often  in  a  log  shanty  you  will  hear 
opinions  of  a  shrewdness  to  surprise  you.  He  re- 
vised his  first  intention  to  let  the  conversation  drop. 

"  I  think  M.  &  D.  is  rather  full  up  just  now,"  he 
remarked.  "  I'm  walkin'-boss  there.  The  roads  is 
about  all  made,  and  road-making  is  what  a  green- 
horn tackles  first.  They's  more  chance  earlier  in  the 
year.  But  if  the  Old  Fellow  "  (he  strongly  ac- 
cented the  first  word)  "  h'aint  nothin'  for  you,  just 
ask  for  Tim  Shearer,  an'  I'll  try  to  put  you  on  the 
trail  for  some  jobber's  camp." 

33 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

The  whistle  of  the  locomotive  blew,  and  the  con- 
ductor appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"Where's  that  fellow's  turkey*?"  he  inquired. 

Several  men  looked  toward  Thorpe,  who,  not  un- 
derstanding this  argot  of  the  camps,  was  a  little  be- 
wildered. Shearer  reached  over  his  head  and  took 
from  the  rack  a  heavy  canvas  bag,  which  he  handed 
to  the  conductor. 

"  That's  the  '  turkey  '  " — he  explained,  "  his  war 
bag.  Bad'll  throw  it  off  at  Scott's,  and  Jack'll  get 
it  there." 

"  How  far  back  is  he?  "  asked  Thorpe. 

"  About  ten  mile.    He'll  hoof  it  in  all  right." 

A  number  of  men  descended  at  Scott's.  The 
three  who  had  come  into  collision  with  Jimmy  and 
Bud  were  getting  noisier.  They  had  produced  a 
stone  jug,  and  had  collected  the  remainder  of  the 
passengers — with  the  exception  of  Shearer  and 
Thorpe — and  now  were  passing  the  jug  rapidly 
from  hand  to  hand.  Soon  they  became  musical, 
striking  up  one  of  the  weird  long-drawn-out  chants 
so  popular  with  the  shanty  boy.  Thorpe  shrewdly 
guessed  his  companion  to  be  a  man  of  weight,  and 
did  not  hesitate  to  ascribe  his  immunity  from  annoy- 
ance to  the  other's  presence. 

"  It's  a  bad  thing,"  said  the  walking-boss,  "  I  used 
to  be  at  it  myself,  and  I  know.  When  I  wanted 
whiskey,  I  needed  it  worse  than  a  scalded  pup  does 
a  snowbank.     The  first  year  I  had  a  hundred  and 

34 


THE  FOREST 

fifty  dollars,  and  I  blew  her  all  in  six  days.  Next 
year  I  had  a  little  more,  but  she  lasted  me  three 
weeks.  That  was  better,  Next  year,  I  says  to  my- 
self, Fli  just  save  fifty  of  that  stake,  and  blow  the 
rest.  So  I  did.  After  that  I  got  to  be  scaler,  and 
sort've  quit.  I  just  made  a  deal  with  the  Old  Fel- 
low to  leave  my  stake  with  headquarters  no  matter 
whether  I  call  for  it  or  not.  I  got  quite  a  lot 
coming,  now." 

"  Bees'n  Lake !  "  cried  Jimmy  fiercely  through  an 
aperture  of  the  door. 

"  You'll  find  th'  boardin'-house  just  across  over 
the  track,"  said  the  woodsman,  holding  out  his 
hand,  "  so  long.  See  you  again  if  you  don't 
find  a  job  with  the  Old  Fellow.  My  name's 
Shearer." 

"  Mine  is  Thorpe,"  replied  the  other.  "  Thank 
you." 

The  woodsman  stepped  forward  past  the  carousers 
to  the  baggage  compartment,  where  he  disappeared. 
The  revelers  stumbled  out  the  other  door. 

Thorpe  followed  and  found  himself  on  the  frozen 
platform  of  a  little  dark  railway  station.  As  he 
walked,  the  boards  shrieked  under  his  feet  and  the 
sharp  air  nipped  at  his  face  and  caught  his  lungs. 
Beyond  the  fence-rail  protection  to  the  side  of  the 
platform  he  thought  he  saw  the  suggestion  of  a  broad 
reach  of  snow,  a  distant  lurking  forest,  a  few  shad- 
owy  buildings   looming   mysterious    in    the    night. 

35 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

The  air  was  twinkling  with  frost  and  the  brilliant 
stars  of  the  north  country. 

Directly  across  the  track  from  the  railway  sta- 
tion, a  single  building  was  pricked  from  the  dark  by 
a  solitary  lamp  in  a  lower-story  room.  The  four 
who  had  descended  before  Thorpe  made  over  toward 
this  light,  stumbling  and  laughing  uncertainly,  so 
he  knew  it  was  probably  in  the  boarding-house,  and 
prepared  to  follow  them.  Shearer  and  the  station 
agent — an  individual  much  muffled — turned  to  the 
disposition  of  some  light  freight  that  had  been 
dropped  from  the  baggage  car. 

The  five  were  met  at  the  steps  by  the  proprietor 
of  the  boarding-house.  This  man  was  short  and 
stout,  with  a  harelip  and  cleft  palate,  which  at  once 
gave  him  the  well-known  slurring  speech  of  persons 
so  afflicted,  and  imparted  also  to  the  timbre  of  his 
voice  a  peculiarly  hollow,  resonant,  trumpet-like 
note.  He  stumped  about  energetically  on  a  wooden 
leg  of  home  manufacture.  It  was  a  cumbersome  in- 
strument, heavy,  with  deep  pine  socket  for  the 
stump,  and  a  projecting  brace  which  passed  under  a 
leather  belt  around  the  man's  waist.  This  instru- 
ment he  used  with  the  dexterity  of  a  third  hand. 
As  Thorpe  watched  him,  he  drove  in  a  projecting 
nail,  kicked  two  "  turkeys  "  dexterously  inside  the 
open  door,  and  stuck  the  armed  end  of  his  peg-leg 
through  the  top  and  bottom  of  the  whiskey  jug  that 
one  of  the  new  arrivals  had  set  down  near  the  door. 

36 


THE  FOREST 

The  whiskey  promptly  ran  out.  At  this  the  cripple 
flirted  the  impaled  jug  from  the  wooden  leg  far  out 
over  the  rail  of  the  veranda  into  the  snow. 

A  growl  went  up. 

"  What'n  hell's  that  for !  "  snarled  one  of  the 
owners  of  the  whiskey  threateningly. 

"  Don't  allow  no  whiskey  here,"  snuffed  the  hare- 

np. 

The  men  were  very  angry.  They  advanced  tow- 
ard the  cripple,  who  retreated  with  astonishing 
agility  to  the  lighted  room.  There  he  bent  the 
wooden  leg  behind  him,  slipped  the  end  of  the  brace 
from  beneath  the  leather  belt,  seized  the  other,  peg 
end  in  his  right  hand,  and  so  became  possessed  of  a 
murderous  bludgeon.  This  he  brandished,  hopping 
at  the  same  time  back  and  forth  in  such  perfect 
poise  and  yet  with  so  ludicrous  an  effect  of  popping 
corn,  that  the  men  were  surprised  into  laughing. 

"  Bully  for  you,  peg-leg !  "  they  cried. 

v<  Rules  'n  regerlations,  boys,"  replied  the  latter, 
without,  however,  a  shade  of  compromising  in  his 
tones.    "  Had  supper?  " 

On  receiving  a  reply  in  the  affirmative,  he  caught 
up  the  lamp,  and,  having  resumed  his  artificial  leg 
in  one  deft  motion,  led  the  way  to  narrow  little 
rooms, 


37 


CHAPTER   FOUR 

THORPE  was  awakened  a  long  time  before 
daylight  by  the  ringing  of  a  noisy  bell.  He. 
dressed,  shivering,  and  stumbled  down-stairs  to  a 
round  stove,  big  as  a  boiler,  into  which  the  cripple 
dumped  huge  logs  of  wood  from  time  to  time. 
After  breakfast  Thorpe  returned  to  this  stove  and 
sat  half  dozing  for  what  seemed  to  him  untold  ages. 
The  cold  of  the  north  country  was  initiating  him. 

Men  came  in,  smoked  a  brief  pipe,  and  went  out. 
Shearer  was  one  of  them.  The  woodsman  nodded 
curtly  to  the  young  man,  his  cordiality  quite  gone. 
Thorpe  vaguely  wondered  why.  After  a  time  he 
himself  put  on  his  overcoat  and  ventured  out  into 
the  town.  It  seemed  to  Thorpe  a  meagre  affair, 
built  of  lumber,  mostly  unpainted,  with  always  the 
dark,  menacing  fringe  of  the  forest  behind.  The 
great  saw-mill,  with  its  tall  stacks  and  its  row  of 
water-barrels — protection  against  fire — on  top,  was 
the  dominant  note.  Near  the  mill  crouched  a  little. 
red-painted  structure  from  whose  stovepipe  a  col- 
umn of  white  smoke  rose,  attesting  the  cold,  a  clear 
hundred  feet  straight  upward,  and  to  whose  door  a 
number  of  men  were  directing  their  steps  through 

38 


THE  FOREST 

the  snow.  Over  the  door  Thorpe  could  distinguish 
the  word  "  Office."    He  followed  and  entered. 

In  a  narrow  aisle  railed  off  from  the  main  part  of 
the  room  waited  Thorpe's  companions  of  the  night 
before.  The  remainder  of  the  office  gave  accommo- 
dation to  three  clerks.  One  of  these  glanced  up  in- 
quiringly as  Thorpe  came  in. 

"  I  am  looking  for  work,"  said  Thorpe. 

"  Wait  there,"  briefly  commanded  the  clerk. 

In  a  few  moments  the  door  of  the  inner  room 
opened,  and  Shearer  came  out.  A  man's  head  peered 
from  within. 

"  Come  on,  boys,"  said  he. 

The  five  applicants  shuffled  through.  Thorpe 
found  himself  in  the  presence  of  a  man  whom  he 
felt  to  be  the  natural  leader  of  these  wild,  inde- 
pendent spirits.  He  was  already  a  little  past  middle 
life,  and  his  form  had  lost  the  elastic  vigor  of  youth. 
But  his  eye  was  keen,  clear,  and  wrinkled  to  a  cer- 
tain dry  f acetiousness ;  and  his  figure  was  of  that 
bulk  which  gives  an  impression  of  a  subtler  weight 
and  power  than  the  merely  physical.  This  pecul- 
iarity impresses  us  in  the  portraits  of  such  men  as 
Daniel  Webster  and  others  of  the  old  jurists.  The 
manner  of  the  man  was  easy,  good-natured,  perhaps 
a  little  facetious,  but  these  qualities  were  worn 
rather  as  garments  than  exhibited  as  characteristics. 
He  could  afford  them,  not  because  he  had  fewer 
difficulties  to  overcome  or  battles  to  fight  than  an* 

39 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

other,  but  because  his  strength  was  so  sufficient  to 
them  that  mere  battles  or  difficulties  could  not  affect 
the  deliberateness  of  his  humor.  You  felt  his  su- 
periority even  when  he  was  most  comradely  with 
you.  This  man  Thorpe  was  to  meet  under  other 
conditions,  wherein  the  steel  hand  would  more 
plainly  clink  the  metal. 

He  was  now  seated  in  a  worn  office  chair  before  a 
littered  desk.  In  the  close  air  hung  the  smell  of 
stale  cigars  and  the  clear  fragrance  of  pine. 

"  What  is  it,  Dennis?  "  he  asked  the  first  of  the 
men. 

"  I've  been  out,"  replied  the  lumberman.  "  Have 
you  got  anything  for  me,  Mr.  Daly"?  " 

The  mill  owner  laughed. 

"  I  guess  so.  Report  to  Shearer.  Did  you  vote 
for  the  right  man,  Denny?  " 

The  lumberman  grinned  sheepishly.  "  I  don't 
know,  sir.    I  didn't  get  that  far." 

"  Better  let  it  alone.  I  suppose  you  and  Bill  want 
to  come  back,  too?"  he  added,  turning  to  the  next 
two  in  the  line.  "  All  right,  report  to  Tim.  Do 
you  want  work?  "  he  inquired  of  the  last  of  the 
quartette,  a  big  bashful  man  with  the  shoulders  of 
a  Hercules. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  latter  uncomfortably. 

"What  do  you  do?" 

"  I'm  a  cant-hook  man,  sir." 

"  Where  have  you  worked?  " 
40 


THE  FOREST 

"  I  had  a  job  with  Morgan  &  Stebbins  on  the 
Clear  River  last  winter." 

"All  right,  we  need  cant-hook  men.  Report  at 
*  seven/  and  if  they  don't  want  you  there,  go  to 
'  thirteen.'  " 

Daly  looked  directly  at  the  man  with  an  air  of 
finality.  The  lumberman  still  lingered  uneasily, 
twisting  his  cap  in  his  hands. 

"  Anything  you  want?  "  asked  Daly  at  last. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  blurted  the  big  man.  "  If  I  come 
down  here  and  tell  you  I  want  three  days  off  and 
fifty  dollars  to  bury  my  mother,  I  wish  you'd  tell 
me  to  go  to  hell!  I  buried  her  three  times  last 
winter ! " 

Daly  chuckled  a  little. 

"  All  right,  Bub,"  said  he,  "  to  hell  it  is." 

The  man  went  out.  Daly  turned  to  Thorpe  with 
the  last  flickers  of  amusement  in  his  eyes. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you?  "  he  inquired  in  a  little 
<Tisper  tones.  Thorpe  felt  that  he  was  not  treated 
with  the  same  careless  familiarity,  because,  poten- 
tially, he  might  be  more  of  a  force  to  deal  with. 
He  underwent,  too,  the  man's  keen  scrutiny,  and 
knew  that  every  detail  of  his  appearance  had  found 
its  comment  in  the  other's  experienced  brain. 

"  I  am  looking  for  work,"  Thorpe  replied. 

"  What  kind  of  work?  " 

"Any  kind,  so  I  can  learn  something  about  the 
lumber  business." 

4i 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

The  older  man  studied  him  keenly  for  a  few  mo 
ments. 

"  Have  you  had  any  other  business  experience?  " 

"  None." 

"  What  have  you  been  doing?  " 

"  Nothing." 

The  lumberman's  eyes  hardened. 

"  We  are  a  very  busy  firm  here,"  he  said  with  a 
certain  deliberation;  "  we  do  not  carry  a  big  force  of 
men  in  any  one  department,  and  each  of  those  men 
has  to  fill  his  place  and  slop  some  over  the  sides. 
We  do  not  pretend  or  attempt  to  teach  here.  If 
you  want  to  be  a  lumberman,  you  must  learn  the 
lumber  business  more  directly  than  through  the  win- 
dows of  a  bookkeeper's  office.  Go  into  the  woods. 
Learn  a  few  first  principles.  Find  out  the  difference 
between  Norway  and  white  pine,  anyway." 

Daly,  being  what  is  termed  a  self-made  man,  en- 
tertained a  prejudice  against  youths  of  the  leisure 
class.  He  did  not  believe  in  their  earnestness  of 
purpose,  their  capacity  for  knowledge,  nor  their  per- 
severance in  anything.  That  a  man  of  twenty-six 
should  be  looking  for  his  first  situation  was  incom- 
prehensible to  him.  He  made  no  effort  to  conceal 
his  prejudice,  because  the  class  to  which  the  young 
man  had  belonged  enjoyed  his  hearty  contempt. 

The  truth  is.  he  had  taken  Thorpe's  ignorance  a 
little  too  much  for  granted.  Before  leaving  his 
home,  and  while  the  project  of  emigration  was  still 

42 


THE  FOREST 

in  the  air,  the  young  fellow  had,  with  the  quiet  en- 
thusiasm of  men  of  his  habit  of  mind,  applied  him- 
self to  the  mastering  of  whatever  the  books  could 
teach.  That  is  not  much.  The  literature  on  lum- 
bering seems  to  be  singularly  limited.  Still  he  knew 
the  trees,  and  had  sketched  an  outline  into  which  to 
paint  experience.  He  said  nothing  of  this  to  the 
man  before  him,  because  of  that  strange  streak  in 
his  nature  which  prompted  him  to  conceal  what  he 
felt  most  strongly;  to  leave  to  others  the  task  of 
guessing  out  his  attitude;  to  stand  on  appearances 
without  attempting  to  justify  them,  no  matter  how 
simple  the  justification  might  be.  A  moment's 
frank,  straightforward  talk  might  have  caught 
Daly's  attention,  for  the  lumberman  was,  after  all, 
a  shrewd  reader  of  character  where  his  prejudices 
were  not  concerned.  Then  events  would  have  turned 
out  very  differently. 

After  his  speech  the  business  man  had  whirled 
back  to  his  desk. 

"  Have  you  anything  for  me  to  do  in  the  woods, 
then?  "  the  other  asked  quietly. 

"  No,"  said  Daly  over  his  shoulder. 

Thorpe  went  out. 

Before  leaving  Detroit  he  had,  on  the  advice  of 
friends,  visited  the  city  office  of  Morrison  &  Daly. 
There  he  had  been  told  positively  that  the  firm  were 
hiring  men.  Now,  without  five  dollars  in  his  pocket, 
he  made  the  elementary  discovery  that  even  in  chop- 

43 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

ping  wood  skilled  labor  counts.  He  did  not  know 
where  to  turn  next,  and  he  would  not  have  had  the 
money  to  go  far  in  any  case.  So,  although  Shearer's 
brusque  greeting  that  morning  had  argued  a  lack  of 
cordiality,  he  resolved  to  remind  the  riverman  of  his 
promised  assistance. 

That  noon  he  carried  out  his  resolve.  To  his  sur- 
prise Shearer  was  cordial — in  his  way.  He  came 
afterward  to  appreciate  the  subtle  nuances  of  man- 
ner and  treatment  by  which  a  boss  retains  his  moral 
supremacy  in  a  lumber  country  —  repels  that  too 
great  familiarity  which  breeds  contempt,  without 
imperiling  the  trust  and  comradeship  which  breeds 
willingness.  In  the  morning  Thorpe  had  been  a 
prospective  employee  of  the  firm,  and  so  a  possible 
subordinate  of  Shearer  himself.  Now  he  was  Shear- 
er's equal. 

"  Go  up  and  tackle  Radway.  He's  jobbing  for 
us  on  the  Cass  Branch.  He  needs  men  for  roadin' ,  I 
know,  because  he's  behind.    You'll  get  a  job  there." 

"Where  is  it?"  asked  Thorpe. 

"  Ten  miles  from  here.  She's  blazed,  but  you  bet- 
ter wait  for  th'  supply  team,  Friday.  If  you  try  to 
make  her  yourself,  you'll  get  lost  on  some  of  th'  old 
loggin'  roads." 

Thorpe  considered. 

"  I'm  busted,"  he  said  at  last  frankly. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  replied  the  walking-boss. 
"  Marshall,  come  here !  " 

44 


THE  FOREST 

The  peg-legged  boarding-house  keeper  stumped  in. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  trumpeted  snuffingly. 

"  This  boy  wants  a  job  till  Friday.  Then  he's 
going  up  to  Radway's  with  the  supply  team.  Now 
quit  your  hollerin'  for  a  chore-boy  for  a  few  days." 

"  All  right,"  snorted  Marshall,  "  take  that  ax  and 
split  some  dry  wood  that  you'll  find  behind  th' 
house." 

"  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,"  began  Thorpe 
to  the  walking-boss,  "  and " 

"  That's  all  right,"  interrupted  the  latter,  "  some 
day  you  can  give  me  a  job." 


45 


CHAPTER   FIVE 

FOR  five  days  Thorpe  cut  wood,  made  fires,  drew 
water,  swept  floors,  and  ran  errands.  Some- 
times he  would  look  across  the  broad  stump-dotted 
plain  to  the  distant  forest.  He  had  imagination. 
No  business  man  succeeds  without  it.  With  him 
the  great  struggle  to  wrest  from  an  impassive  and 
aloof  nature  what  she  has  so  long  held  securely  as 
her  own,  took  on  the  proportions  of  a  battle.  The 
distant  forest  was  the  front.  To  it  went  the  new 
bands  of  fighters.  From  it  came  the  caissons  for 
food,  that  ammunition  of  the  frontier;  messengers 
bringing  tidings  of  defeat  or  victory;  sometimes 
men  groaning  on  their  litters  from  the  twisting  and 
crushing  and  breaking  inflicted  on  them  by  the  calm, 
ruthless  enemy;  once  a  dead  man  bearing  still  on  his 
chest  the  mark  of  the  tree  that  had  killed  him. 
Here  at  headquarters  sat  the  general,  map  in  hand, 
issuing  his  orders,  directing  his  forces. 

And  out  of  the  forest  came  mystery.  Hunters 
brought  deer  on  sledges.  Indians,  observant  and 
grave,  swung  silently  across  the  reaches  on  their 
snowshoes,  and  silently  back  again  carrying  their 
meagre  purchases.  In  the  daytime  ravens  wheeled 
and  croaked  about  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  bearing 

46 


THE  FOREST 

the  shadow  of  the  woods  on  their  plumes  and  of  the 
north-wind  in  the  sombre  quality  of  their  voices; 
rare  eagles  wheeled  gracefully  to  and  fro;  snow 
squalls  coquetted  with  the  landscape.  At  night  the 
many  creatures  of  the  forest  ventured  out  across  the 
plains  in  search  of  food — weasels;  big  white  hares; 
deer,  planting  daintily  their  little  sharp  hoofs  where 
the  frozen  turnips  were  most  plentiful;  porcupines 
in  quest  of  anything  they  could  get  their  keen  teeth 
into; — and  often  the  big  timber  wolves  would  send 
shivering  across  the  waste  a  long  whining  howL 
And  in  the  morning  their  tracks  would  embroider 
the  snow  with  many  stories. 

The  talk  about  the  great  stove  in  the  boarding- 
house  office  also  possessed  the  charm  of  balsam 
fragrance.  One  told  the  other  occult  facts  about  the 
*■  Southeast  of  the  southwest  of  eight."  The  second 
in  turn  vouchsafed  information  about  another  point 
of  the  compass.  Thorpe  heard  of  many  curious 
practical  expedients.  He  learned  that  one  can  pre- 
vent awkward  air-holes  in  lakes  by  "  tapping  "  the 
ice  with  an  ax — for  the  air  must  get  out,  naturally 
or  artificially;  that  the  top  log  on  a  load  should  not 
be  large  because  of  the  probability,  when  one  side 
has  dumped  with  a  rush,  of  its  falling  straight  down 
from  its  original  height,  so  breaking  the  sleigh;  that 
a  thin  slice  of  salt  pork  well  peppered  is  good  when 
tied  about  a  sore  throat;  that  choking  a  horse  will 
cause  him  to  swell  up  and  float  on  the  top  of  the 

47 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

wate*,  thus  rendering  it  easy  to  slide  him  out  on  the 
ice  from  a  hole  he  may  have  broken  into ;  that  a  tree 
lodged  against  another  may  be  brought  to  the 
ground  by  felling  a  third  against  it;  that  snow- 
shoes  made  of  caribou  hide  do  not  become  baggy, 
because  caribou  shrinks  when  wet,  whereas  other 
rawhide  stretches.  These,  and  many  other  things 
too  complicated  to  elaborate  here,  he  heard  discussed 
by  expert  opinion.  Gradually  he  acquired  an  en- 
thusiasm for  the  woods,  just  as  a  boy  conceives  a 
longing  for  the  out-of-door  life  of  which  he  hears 
in  the  conversation  of  his  elders  about  the  winter 
fire.  He  became  eager  to  get  away  to  the  front,  to 
stand  among  the  pines,  to  grapple  with  the  difficul- 
ties of  thicket,  hill,  snow,  and  cold  that  nature  si- 
lently interposes  between  the  man  and  his  task. 

At  the  end  of  the  week  he  received  four  dollars 
from  his  employer;  dumped  his  valise  into  a  low 
bobsleigh  driven  by  a  man  muffled  in  a  fur  coat;  as- 
sisted in  loading  the  sleigh  with  a  variety  of  things, 
from  Spearhead  plug  to  raisins;  and  turned  his  face 
at  last  toward  the  land  of  his  hopes  and  desires. 

The  long  drive  to  camp  was  at  once  a  delight  and 
a  rVsery  to  him.  Its  miles  stretched  longer  and 
2i/nger  as  time  went  on;  and  the  miles  of  a  route 
new  to  a  man  are  always  one  and  a  half  at  least. 
The  forest,  so  mysterious  and  inviting  from  afar, 
drew  within  itself  coldly  when  Thorpe  entered  it. 
He  was  as  yet  a  stranger.     The  snow  became  the 

48 


THE  FOREST 

prevailing  note.  The  white  was  everywhere,  con- 
cealing jealously  beneath  rounded  uniformity  the 
secrets  of  the  woods.  And  it  was  cold.  First 
Thorpe's  feet  became  numb,  then  his  hands,  then 
his  nose  was  nipped,  and  finally  his  warm  clothes 
were  lifted  from  him  by  invisible  hands,  and  he  was 
left  naked  to  shivers  and  tremblings.  He  found  it 
torture  to  sit  still  on  the  top  of  the  bale  of  hay; 
and  yet  he  could  not  bear  to  contemplate  the  cold 
shock  of  jumping  from  the  sleigh  to  the  ground — 
of  touching  foot  to  the  chilling  snow.  The  driver 
pulled  up  to  breathe  his  horses  at  the  top  of  a  hill, 
and  to  fasten  under  one  runner  a  heavy  chain,  which, 
grinding  into  the  snow,  would  act  as  a  brake  on  the 
descent. 

"  You're  dressed  pretty  light,"  he  advised;  "  bet- 
ter hoof  it  a  ways  and  get  warm." 

The  words  tipped  the  balance  of  Thorpe's  de- 
cision. He  descended  stiffly,  conscious  of  a  disagree- 
able shock  from  a  six-inch  jump. 

In  ten  minutes,  the  wallowing,  slipping,  and 
leaping  after  the  tail  of  the  sled  had  sent  his  blood 
tingling  to  the  last  of  his  protesting  members.  Cold 
withdrew.  He  saw  now  that  the  pines  were  beauti- 
ful and  solemn  and  still;  and  that  in  the  temple  of 
their  columns  dwelt  winter  enthroned.  Across  the 
carpet  of  the  snow  wandered  the  trails  of  her  creat- 
ures— the  stately  regular  prints  of  the  partridge ;  the 
series  of  pairs  made  by  the  squirrel;  those  of  the 

49 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

weasel  and  mink,  just  like  the  squirrels'  except  that 
the  prints  were  not  quite  side  by  side,  and  that  be- 
tween every  other  pair  stretched  the  mark  of  the 
animal's  long,  slender  body;  the  delicate  tracery  of 
the  deer  mouse ;  the  fan  of  the  rabbit ;  the  print  of  a 
baby's  hand  that  the  raccoon  left;  the  broad  pad  of 
a  lynx;  the  dog-like  trail  of  wolves; — these,  and  a 
dozen  others,  all  equally  unknown,  gave  Thorpe  the 
impression  of  a  great  mysterious  multitude  of  living 
things  which  moved  about  him  invisible.  In  a 
thicket  of  cedar  and  scrub  willow  near  the  bed  of  a 
stream,  he  encountered  one  of  those  strangely  as- 
sorted bands  of  woods-creatures  which  are  always 
cruising  it  through  the  country.  He  heard  the  cheer- 
ful little  chickadee;  he  saw  the  grave  nuthatch  with 
its  appearance  of  a  total  lack  of  humor;  he  glimpsed 
a  black-and-white  woodpecker  or  so,  and  was  reviled 
by  a  ribald  blue  jay.  Already  the  wilderness  was 
taking  its  character  to  him. 

After  a  little  while,  they  arrived  by  way  of  a 
hill,  over  which  they  plunged  into  the  middle  of  the 
camp.  Thorpe  saw  three  large  buildings,  backed 
end  to  end,  and  two  smaller  ones,  all  built  of  heavy 
logs,  roofed  with  plank,  and  lighted  sparsely 
through  one  or  two  windows  apiece.  The  driver 
pulled  up  opposite  the  space  between  two  of  the 
larger  buildings,  and  began  to  unload  his  provisions. 
Thorpe  set  about  aiding  him,  and  so  found  himself 
for  the  first  tune  in  a  "  cook  camp." 

50 


THE  FOREST 

It  was  a  commodious  building — Thorpe  had  no 
idea  a  log  structure  ever  contained  so  much  room. 
One  end  furnished  space  for  two  cooking  ranges  and 
two  bunks  placed  one  over  the  other.  Along  one 
side  ran  a  broad  table-shelf,  with  other  shelves  over 
it  and  numerous  barrels  underneath,  all  filled  with 
cans,  loaves  of  bread,  cookies,  and  pies.  The  centre 
was  occupied  by  four  long  bench-flanked  tables, 
down  whose  middle  straggled  utensils  containing 
sugar,  apple-butter,  condiments,  and  sauces,  and 
whose  edges  were  set  with  tin  dishes  for  about  forty 
men.  The  cook,  a  rather  thin-faced  man  with  a 
mustache,  directed  where  the  provisions  were  to  be 
stowed;  and  the  "  cookee,"  a  hulking  youth,  assisted 
Thorpe  and  the  driver  to  carry  them  in.  During  the 
course  of  the  work  Thorpe  made  a  mistake. 

"  That  stuff  doesn't  come  here,"  objected  the 
cookee,  indicating  a  box  of  tobacco  the  newcomer 
was  carrying.     "  She  goes  to  the  '  van.'  " 

Thorpe  did  not  know  what  the  "  van  "  might  be, 
but  he  replaced  the  tobacco  on  the  sleigh.  In  a  few 
moments  the  task  was  finished,  with  the  exception 
of  a  half  dozen  other  cases,  which  the  driver  desig- 
nated as  also  for  the  "  van."  The  horses  were  un- 
hitched, and  stabled  in  the  third  of  the  big  log  build- 
ings.   The  driver  indicated  the  second. 

"  Better  go  into  the  men's  camp  and  sit  down  till 
th'  boss  gets  in,"  he  advised. 

Thorpe  entered  a  dim,  over-heated  structure,  lined 
5i 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

on  two  sides  by  a  double  tier  of  large  bunks  parti- 
tioned  from  one  another  like  cabins  of  boats,  and 
centred  by  a  huge  stove  over  which  hung  slender 
poles.  The  latter  were  to  dry  clothes  on.  Just  out- 
side the  bunks  ran  a  straight  hard  bench.  Thorpe 
stood  at  the  entrance  trying  to  accustom  his  eyes  to 
the  dimness. 

"  Set  down,"  said  a  voice,  "  on  th'  floor  if  you 
want  to;  but  I'd  prefer  th'  deacon  seat." 

Thorpe  obediently  took  position  on  the  bench,  or 
"  deacon  seat."  His  eyes,  more  used  to  the  light, 
could  make  out  a  thin,  tall,  bent  old  man,  with  bare 
cranium,  two  visible  teeth,  and  a  three  days'  stubbie 
of  white  beard  over  his  meagre,  twisted  face. 

He  caught,  perhaps,  Thorpe's  surprised  expres- 
sion. 

"  You  think  th'  old  man's  no  good,  do  you*?  "  he 
cackled,  without  the  slightest  malice,  "  looks  is  de- 
ceivin' !  "  He  sprang  up  swiftly,  seized  the  toe  of 
his  right  foot  in  his  left  hand,  and  jumped  his  left 
foot  through  the  loop  thus  formed.  Then  he  sat 
down  again,  and  laughed  at  Thorpe's  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Old  Jackson's  still  purty  smart,"  said  he.  "  I'm 
barn-boss.  They  ain't  a  man  in  th'  country  knows 
as  much  about  hosses  as  I  do.  We  ain't  had  but  two 
sick  this  fall,  an'  between  you  an'  me,  they's  a  skate 
lot.    You're  a  greenhorn,  ain't  you^  " 

"Yes,"  confessed  Thorpe. 
52 


THE  FOREST 

"Well,"  said  Jackson,  reflectively  but  rapidly, 
"  Le  Fabian,  he's  quiet  but  bad;  and  O'Grady,  he 
talks  loud  but  you  can  bluff  him;  and  Perry,  he's 
only  bad  when  he  gets  full  of  red  likker ;  and  Norton 
he's  bad  when  he  gets  mad-like,  and  will  use  axes." 

Thorpe  did  not  know  he  was  getting  valuable 
points  on  the  camp  bullies.  The  old  man  hitched 
nearer  and  peered  in  his  face. 

"  They  don't  bluff  you  a  bit,"  he  said,  "  unless 
you  likes  them,  and  then  they  can  back  you  way  off 
the  skidway." 

Thorpe  smiled  at  the  old  fellow's  volubility.  He 
did  not  know  how  near  to  the  truth  the  woodsman's 
shrewdness  had  hit ;  for  to  himself,  as  to  most  strong 
characters,  his  peculiarities  were  the  normal,  and 
therefore  the  unnoticed.  His  habit  of  thought  in 
respect  to  other  people  was  rather  objective  than  sub- 
jective. He  inquired  so  impersonally  the  significance 
of  whatever  was  before  him,  that  it  lost  the  human 
quality  both  as  to  itself  and  himself.  To  him  men 
were  things.  This  attitude  relieved  him  of  self-con- 
sciousness. He  never  bothered  his  head  as  to  what 
the  other  man  thought  of  him,  his  ignorance,  or  his 
awkwardness,  simply  because  to  him  the  other  man 
was  nothing  but  an  element  in  his  problem.  So  in 
such  circumstances  he  learned  fast.  Once  introduce 
the  human  element,  however,  and  his  absurdly  sen- 
sitive self -consciousness  asserted  itself.  He  was,  as 
Jackson  expressed  it,  backed  off  the  skidway. 

53 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

At  dark  the  old  man  lit  two  lamps,  which  served 
dimly  to  gloze  the  shadows,  and  thrust  logs  of  wood 
into  the  cast-iron  stove.  Soon  after,  the  men  came 
in.  They  were  a  queer,  mixed  lot.  Some  carried 
the  indisputable  stamp  of  the  frontiersman  in  their 
bearing  and  glance;  others  looked  to  be  mere  day- 
laborers,  capable  of  performing  whatever  task  they 
were  set  to,  and  of  finding  the  trail  home  again. 
There  were  active,  clean-built,  precise  Frenchmen, 
with  small  hands  and  feet,  and  a  peculiarly  trim 
way  of  wearing  their  rough  garments ;  typical  native- 
born  American  lumber-jacks  powerful  in  frame, 
rakish  in  air,  reckless  in  manner;  big  blonde  Scan- 
dinavians and  Swedes,  strong  mep  <fr  the  sawing;  an 
Indian  or  so,  strangely  in  contrast  to  the  rest'  and 
a  variety  of  Irishmen,  Englishmen,  and  Canadians. 
These  men  tramped  in  without  a  word,  and  set 
busily  to  work  at  various  tasks.  Some  sat  on  the 
"  deacon  seat "  and  began  to  take  off  their  socks  and 
rubbers;  others  washed  at  a  little  wooden  sink;  still 
others  selected  and  lit  lanterns  from  a  pendant  row 
near  the  window,  and  followed  old  Jackson  out  of 
doors.    They  were  the  teamsters. 

"  You'll  find  the  old  man  in  the  office,"  said 
Jackson. 

Thorpe  made  his  way  across  to  the  small  log  cabin 
indicated  as  the  office,  and  pushed  open  the  door. 
He  found  himself  in  a  little  room  containing  two 
bunks,  a  stove,  a  counter  and  desk,  and  a  number  of 

54 


-THE  FOREST 

gnelves  full  of  supplies.  About  the  walls  hung  fire- 
arms, snowshoes,  and  a  variety  of  clothes. 

A  man  sat  at  the  desk  placing  figures  on  a  sheet 
of  paper.  He  obtained  the  figures  from  statistics 
penciled  on  three  thin  leaves  of  beech-wood  riveted 
together.  In  a  chair  by  the  stove  lounged  a  bulkier 
figure,  which  Thorpe  concluded  to  be  that  of  the 
"  old  man." 

"  I  was  sent  here  by  Shearer,"  said  Thorpe  di- 
rectly; "  he  said  you  might  give  me  some  work." 

So  long  a  silence  fell  that  the  applicant  began  to 
wonder  if  his  question  had  been  heard. 

"  I  might,"  replied  the  man  dryly  at  last. 

"Well,  will  you*?"  Thorpe  inquired,  the  humor 
of  the  situation  overcoming  him. 

"  Have  you  ever  worked  in  the  woods  ?  " 

"No." 

The  man  smoked  silently. 

"  I'll  put  you  on  the  road  in  the  morning,"  he 
concluded,  as  though  this  were  the  deciding  quali- 
fication. 

One  of  the  men  entered  abruptly  and  approached 
the  counter.  The  writer  at  the  desk  laid  aside  his 
tablets. 

"  What  is  it,  Albert?  "  he  added. 

"  Jot  of  chewin',"  was  the  reply. 

The  scaler  took  from  the  shelf  a  long  plug  of  to- 
bacco and  cut  off  two  inches. 

"  Ain't  hitting  the  van  much,  are  you,  Albert?  " 
55 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

he  commented,  putting  the  man's  name  and  the 
amount  in  a  little  book.  Thorpe  went  out,  after 
leaving  his  name  for  the  time  book,  enlightened  as 
to  the  method  of  obtaining  supplies.  He  promised 
himself  some  warm  clothing  from  the  van,  when  he 
should  have  worked  out  the  necessary  credit. 

At  supper  he  learned  something  else — that  he 
must  not  talk  at  table.  A  moment's  reflection  taught 
him  the  common  sense  of  the  rule.  For  one  thing, 
supper  was  a  much  briefer  affair  than  it  would  hav*. 
been  had  every  man  felt  privileged  to  take  his  will 
in  conversation ;  not  to  speak  of  the  absence  of  noise 
and  tht  presence  of  peace.  Each  man  asked  for 
what  he  wanted. 

"  Please  pass  the  beans,"  he  said  with  the  delib- 
erate intonation  of  a  man  who  does  not  expect  that 
his  request  will  be  granted. 

Besides  the  beans  were  fried  salt  pork,  boiled  pota- 
toes, canned  corn,  mince  pie,  a  variety  of  cookies 
and  doughnuts,  and  strong  green  tea.  Thorpe  found 
himself  eating  ravenously  of  the  crude  fare. 

That  evening  he  underwent  a  catechism,  a  few 
practical  jokes,  which  he  took  good-naturedly,  and  a 
vast  deal  of  chaffing.  At  nine  the  lights  were  all 
out.  By  daylight  he  and  a  dozen  other  men  were 
at  work,  hewing  a  road  that  had  to  be  as  smooth  and 
level  as  a  New  York  boulevard. 


56 


CHAPTER   SIX 

THORPE  and  four  others  were  set  to  work  on 
this  road,  which  was  to  be  cut  through  a  creek 
bottom  leading,  he  was  told,  to  "  seventeen."  The 
figures  meant  nothing  to  him.  Later,  each  number 
came  to  possess  an  individuality  of  its  own.  He 
learned  to  use  a  double-bitted  axe. 

Thorpe's  intelligence  was  of  the  practical  sort  that 
wonderfully  helps  experience.  He  watched  closely 
one  of  the  older  men,  and  analyzed  the  relation 
borne  by  each  one  of  his  movements  to  the  object  in 
view.  In  a  short  time  he  perceived  that  one  hand 
and  arm  are  mere  continuations  of  the  helve,  attach- 
ing the  blade  of  the  axe  to  the  shoulder  of  the 
wielder;  and  that  the  other  hand  directs  the  stroke. 
He  acquired  the  knack  thus  of  throwing  the  bit  of 
steel  into  the  gash  as  though  it  were  a  baseball  on 
the  end  of  a  string;  and  so  accomplished  power.  By 
experiment  he  learned  just  when  to  slide  the  guiding 
hand  down  the  helve;  and  so  gained  accuracy.  He 
suffered  none  of  those  accidents  so  common  to  new 
choppers.  His  axe  did  not  twist  itself  from  his 
hands,  nor  glance  to  cut  his  foot.  He  attained  the 
method  of  the  double  bit,  and  how  to  knock  roots 

57 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

by  alternate  employment  of  the  edge  and  flat.  In  a 
few  days  his  hands  became  hard  and  used  to  the 
cold. 

From  shortly  after  daylight  he  worked.  Four 
other  men  bore  him  company,  and  twice  Radway 
himself  came  by,  watched  their  operations  for  a 
moment,  and  moved  on  without  comment.  After 
Thorpe  had  caught  his  second  wind,  he  enjoyed  his 
task,  proving  a  certain  pleasure  in  the  ease  with 
which  he  handled  his  tool. 

At  the  end  of  an  interminable  period,  a  faint, 
musical  halloo  swelled,  echoed,  and  died  through  the 
forest,  beautiful  as  a  spirit.  It  was  taken  up  by 
another  voice  and  repeated.  Then  by  another.  Now 
near  at  hand,  now  far  away  it  rang  as  hollow  as  a 
bell.  The  sawyers,  the  swampers,  the  skidders,  and 
the  team  men  turned  and  put  on  their  heavy  blanket 
coats. 

Down  on  the  road  Thorpe  heard  it  too,  and  won- 
dered what  it  might  be. 

"  Come  on,  Bub !  she  means  chew !  "  explained 
old  man  Heath  kindly.  Old  man  Heath  was  a  vet- 
eran woodsman  who  had  come  to  swamping  in  his 
old  age.  He  knew  the  game  thoroughly,  but  could 
never  save  his  "  stake "  when  Pat  McGinnis,  the 
saloon  man,  enticed  him  in.  Throughout  the  morn- 
ing he  had  kept  an  eye  on  the  newcomer,  and  was 
secretly  pleased  in  his  heart  of  the  professional  at 
the  readiness  with  which  the  young  fellow  learned. 

58 


THE  FOREST 

Thorpe  resumed  his  coat,  and  fell  in  behind  the 
little  procession.  After  a  short  time  he  came  upon  a 
horse  and  sledge.  Beyond  it  the  cookee  had  built  a 
little  camp  fire,  around  and  over  which  he  had 
grouped  big  fifty-pound  lard-tins,  half  full  of  hot 
things  to  eat.  Each  man,  as  he  approached,  picked 
up  a  tin  plate  and  cup  from  a  pile  near  at  hand. 

The  cookee  was  plainly  master  of  the  situation. 
He  issued  peremptory  orders.  When  Erickson,  the 
blonde  Swede,  attempted  surreptitiously  to  appro- 
priate a  doughnut,  the  youth  turned  on  him  savagely. 

"  Get  out  of  that,  you  big  tow-head !  "  he  cried 
with  an  oath. 

A  dozen  Canada  jays,  fluffy,  impatient,  perched 
near  by  or  made  little  short  circles  over  and  back. 
They  awaited  the  remains  of  the  dinner.  Bob  Strat- 
ton  and  a  devil-may-care  giant  by  the  name  of  Nolan 
constructed  a  joke  wherewith  to  amuse  the  interim. 
They  cut  a  long  pole,  and  placed  it  across  a  log  and 
through  a  bush,  so  that  one  extremity  projected  be- 
yond the  bush.  Then  diplomacy  won  a  piece  of 
meat  from  the  cookee.  This  they  nailed  to  the  end 
of  the  pole  by  means  of  a  pine  sliver.  The  Canada 
jays  gazed  on  the  morsel  with  covetous  eyes.  When 
the  men  had  retired,  they  swooped.  One  big  fellow 
arrived  first,  and  lit  in  defiance  of  the  rest. 

"Give  it  to  'im!"  whispered  Nolan,  who  had 
been  watching. 

Bob  hit  the  other  end  of  the  pole  a  mighty  whack 
59 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

with  his  ax.  The  astonished  jay,  projected  straight 
upward  by  the  shock,  gave  a  startled  squawk  and 
cut  a  hole  through  the  air  for  the  tall  timber.  Strat- 
ton  and  Nolan  went  into  convulsions  of  laughter. 

"  Get  at  it!  "  cried  the  cookee,  as  though  setting  a 
pack  of  dogs  on  their  prey. 

The  men  ate,  perched  in  various  attitudes  and 
places.  Thorpe  found  it  difficult  to  keep  warm. 
The  violent  exercise  had  heated  him  through,  and 
now  the  north  country  cold  penetrated  to  his  bones. 
He  huddled  close  to  the  fire,  and  drank  hot  te?,  but 
t  did  not  do  him  very  much  good.  In  his  secret 
>nmd  he  resolved  to  buy  one  ctl  the  blanket  mack- 
inaws  that  very  evening.  He  began  to  see  that  the 
costumes  of  each  country  have  their  origin  in  prac- 
ticality. 

That  evening  he  picked  out  one  of  the  best.  As 
he  was  about  to  inquire  the  price,  Radway  drew  the 
van  book  toward  him,  inquiring: 

"  Let's  see;  what's  the  name?  " 

In  an  instant  Thorpe  was  charged  on  the  book 
with  three  dollars  and  a  half,  although  his  work  that 
day  had  earned  him  less  than  a  dollar.  On  his  way 
back  to  the  men's  shanty  he  could  not  help  thinking 
how  easy  it  would  be  for  him  to  leave  the  next 
morning  two  dollars  and  a  half  ahead.  He  won- 
dered if  this  method  of  procedure  obtained  in  all  the 
camps. 

The  newcomer's  first  day  of  hard  work  had  tired 
60 


THE  FOREST 

him  completely.  He  was  ready  for  nothing  so  much 
as  his  bunk.  But  he  had  forgotten  that  it  was  Sat- 
urday night.    His  status  was  still  to  assure. 

They  began  with  a  few  mild  tricks.  Shuffle  the 
Brogan  followed  Hot  Back.  Thorpe  took  all  of  it 
good-naturedly.  Finally  a  tall  individual  with  a 
thin  white  face,  a  reptilian  forehead,  reddish  hair, 
and  long  baboon  arms,  suggested  tossing  in  a  blan- 
ket.   Thorpe  looked  at  the  low  ceiling,  and  declined. 

"  I'm  with  the  game  as  long  as  you  say,  boys," 
said  he,  "  and  I'll  have  as  much  fun  as  anybody,  but 
that's  going  too  far  for  a  tired  man." 

The  reptilian  gentleman  let  out  a  string  of  oaths 
whose  meaning  might  be  translated,  "  We'll  see 
about  that !  " 

Thorpe  was  a  good  boxer,  but  he  knew  by  now 
the  lumber-jack's  method  of  fighting — anything  tc 
hurt  the  other  fellow.  And  in  a  genuine  old-fash- 
ioned knock-down-and-drag-out  rough-and-tumble 
your  woodsman  is  about  the  toughest  customer  to 
handle  you  will  be  likely  to  meet.  He  is  brought 
up  on  fighting.  Nothing  pleases  him  better  than  to 
get  drunk  and,  with  a  few  companions,  to  embark 
on  an  earnest  effort  to  "  clean  out "  a  rival  town. 
And  he  will  accept  cheerfully  punishment  enough 
to  kill  three  ordinary  men.  It  takes  one  of  his  kind 
really  to  hurt  him. 

Thorpe,  at  the  first  hostile  movement,  sprang  back 
to  the  door,  seized  one  of  the  three-foot  billets  oi 

61 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

hardwood  intended  for  the  stove,  and  faced  his  op- 
ponents. 

"  I  don't  know  which  of  you  boys  is  coming  first," 
said  he  quietly,  "  but  he's  going  to  get  it  good  and 
plenty." 

If  the  affair  had  been  serious,  these  men  would 
never  have  recoiled  before  the  mere  danger  of  a  stick 
of  hardwood.  The  American  woodsman  is  afraid  of 
nothing  human.  But  this  was  a  good-natured  bit  of 
foolery,  a  test  of  nerve,  and  there  was  no  object  in 
getting  a  broken  head  for  that.  The  reptilian  gen- 
tleman alone  grumbled  at  the  abandonment  of  the 
attack,  mumbling  something  profane. 

"  If  you  hanker  for  trouble  so  much,"  drawled 
the  unexpected  voice  of  old  Jackson  from  the  cor- 
ner, "  mebbe  you  could  put  on  th'  gloves." 

The  idea  was  acclaimed.  Somebody  tossed  out  a 
dirty  torn  old  set  of  buckskin  boxing  gloves. 

The  rest  was  farce.  Thorpe  was  built  on  the  true 
athletic  lines,  broad,  straight  shoulders,  narrow 
flanks,  long,  clean,  smooth  muscles.  He  possessed, 
besides,  that  hereditary  toughness  and  bulk  which  no 
gymnasium  training  will  ever  quite  supply.  The 
other  man,  while  powerful  and  ugly  in  his  rushes, 
was  clumsy  and  did  not  use  his  head.  Thorpe 
planted  his  hard  straight  blows  at  will.  In  this 
game  he  was  as  manifestly  superior  as  his  opponent 
would  probably  have  been  had  the  rules  permitted 
kicking,  gouging,  and  wrestling.    Finally  he  saw  his 

62 


THE  FOREST 

opening  and  let  out  with  a  swinging  pivot  blow. 
The  other  picked  himself  out  of  a  corner,  and  drew 
off  the  gloves.    Thorpe's  status  was  assured. 

A  Frenchman  took  down  his  fiddle  and  began  to 
squeak.  In  the  course  of  the  dance  old  Jackson  and 
old  Heath  found  themselves  together,  smoking  their 
pipes  of  Peerless. 

"  The  young  feller's  all  right,"  observed  Heath ; 
"  he  cuffed  Ben  up  to  a  peak  all  right." 

"Went  down  like  a  peck  of  wet  fish-nets,"  re« 
plied  Jackson  tranquilly. 


68 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

N  the  office  shanty  one  evening  about  a  week 
later,  Radway  and  his  scaler  happened  to  be 
talking  over  the  situation.  The  scaler,  whose  name 
was  Dyer,  slouched  back  in  the  shadow,  watching 
his  great  honest  superior  as  a  crafty,  dainty  cat 
might  watch  the  blunderings  of  a  St.  Bernard. 
When  he  spoke,  it  was  with  a  mockery  so  subtle  as 
quite  to  escape  the  perceptions  of  the  lumberman. 
Dyer  had  a  precise  little  black  mustache  whose  ends 
he  was  constantly  twisting  into  points,  black  eye- 
brows, and  long  effeminate  black  lashes.  You  would 
have  expected  his  dress  in  the  city  to  be  just  a  trifle 
flashy,  not  enough  so  to  be  loud,  but  sinning  as  to 
the  trifles  of  good  taste.  The  two  men  conversed 
in  short  elliptical  sentences,  using  many  technical 
terms. 

"  That  *  seventeen '  white  pine  is  going  to  under- 
run,"  said  Dyer.  "  It  won't  skid  over  three  hun- 
dred thousand.' '' 

"  It's  small  stuff,"  agreed  Radway,  "  and  so  much 
the  worse  for  us;  but  the  Company' 11  stand  in  on  it 
because  small  stuff  like  that  always  over-runs  on  the 
mill-cut." 

64 


THE  FOREST 

The  scaler  nodded  comprehension. 

"When  you  going  to  dray-haul  that  Norway 
across  Pike  Lake?  " 

"  To-morrow.  She's  springy,  but  the  books  say 
five  inches  of  ice  will  hold  a  team,  and  there's  more 
than  that.  How  much  are  we  putting  in  a  day, 
now?" 

"  About  forty  thousand." 

Radway  fell  silent. 

"  That's  mighty  little  for  such  a  crew,"  he  ob- 
served at  last,  doubtfully. 

"I  always  said  you  were  too  easy  with  them. 
You  got  to  drive  them  more." 

"  Well,  it's  a  rough  country,"  apologized  Rad- 
way, trying,  as  was  his  custom,  to  find  excuses  for 
the  other  party  as  soon  as  he  was  agreed  with  in  his 
blame,  "  there's  any  amount  of  potholes;  and,  then, 
we've  had  so  much  snow  the  ground  ain't  really 
froze  underneath.  It  gets  pretty  soft  in  some  of 
them  swamps.  Can't  figure  on  putting  up  as  much 
in  this  country  as  we  used  to  down  on  the  Mus- 
kegon." 

The  scaler  smiled  a  thin  smile  all  to  himself  be- 
hind the  stove.  Big  John  Radway  depended  so 
much  on  the  moral  effect  of  approval  or  disapproval 
by  those  with  whom  he  lived.  It  amused  Dyer  to 
withhold  the  timely  word,  so  leaving  the  jobber  to 
flounder  between  his  easy  nature  and  his  sense  of 
Vvhat  should  be  done. 

6.5 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Dyer  knew  perfectly  well  that  the  work  was  be- 
hind, and  he  knew  the  reason.  For  some  time  the 
men  had  been  relaxing  their  efforts.  They  had 
worked  honestly  enough,  but  a  certain  snap  and  vim 
had  lacked.  This  was  because  Radway  had  been  too 
easy  on  them. 

Your  true  lumber-jack  adores  of  all  things  in 
creation  a  man  whom  he  feels  to  be  stronger  than 
himself.  If  his  employer  is  big  enough  to  drive  him, 
then  he  is  willing  to  be  driven  to  the  last  ounce  of 
his  strength.  But  once  he  gets  the  notion  that  his 
"  boss  "  is  afraid  of,  or  for,  him  or  his  feelings  or  his 
health,  he  loses  interest  in  working  for  that  man. 
So  a  little  effort  to  lighten  or  expedite  his  work,  a 
little  leniency  in  excusing  the  dilatory  finishing  of  a 
job,  a  little  easing-up  under  stress  of  weather,  are 
taken  as  so  many  indications  of  a  desire  to  conciliate. 
And  conciliation  means  weakness  every  time.  Your 
lumber- jack  likes  to  be  met  front  to  front,  one  strong 
man  to  another.  As  you  value  your  authority,  the 
love  of  your  men,  and  the  completion  of  your  worK 
keep  a  bluff  brow  and  an  unbending  singleness  of 
purpose. 

Radway's  peculiar  temperament  rendered  him 
liable  to  just  this  mistake.  It  was  so  much  easier  for 
him  to  do  the  thing  himself  than  to  be  harsh  to  the 
point  of  forcing  another  to  it,  that  he  was  inclined  to 
take  the  line  of  least  resistance  when  it  came  to  a 
question  of  even  ordinary   diligence.    He  sougnt 

66 


THE  FOREST 

often  in  his  own  mind  excuses  for  dereliction  in 
favor  of  a  man  who  would  not  have  dreamed  of 
seeking  them  for  himself.  A  good  many  people 
would  call  this  kindness  of  heart.  Perhaps  it  was; 
the  question  is  a  little  puzzling.  But  the  facts  were 
as  stated. 

Thorpe  had  already  commented  on  the  feeling 
among  the  men,  though,  owing  to  his  inexperience, 
he  was  not  able  to  estimate  its  full  value.  The  men 
were  inclined  to  a  semi-apologetic  air  when  they 
spoke  of  their  connection  with  the  camp.  Instead  of 
being  honored  as  one  of  a  series  of  jobs,  this  seemed 
to  be  considered  as  merely  a  temporary  halting-place 
in  which  they  took  no  pride,  and  from  which  they 
looked  forward  in  anticipation  or  back  in  memory  to 
better  things. 

"Old  Shearer,  he's  the  bully  boy,"  said  Bob 
Stratton.  "  I  remember  when  he  was  foreman  for 
M.  &  D.  at  Camp  O.  Say,  we  did  hustle  them  saw- 
logs  in !  I  should  rise  to  remark !  Out  in  th'  woods 
by  first  streak  o'  day.  I  recall  one  mornin'  she  was 
pretty  cold,  an'  the  boys  grumbled  some  about 
turnin'  out.  '  Cold,'  says  Tim,  '  you  sons  of  guns ! 
You  got  your  ch'ice.  It  may  be  too  cold  for  you  in 
the  woods,  but  LJs  a  damm  eight  too  hot  fer  you  in 
hell,  an'  you're  going  to  one  or  the  other! '  And 
he  meant  it  too.  Them  was  great  days!  Forty 
million  a  year,  and  not  a  hitch." 

One  man  said  nothing  in  the  general  discussion. 
67 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

It  was  his  first  winter  in  the  woods,  and  plainly  in 
the  eyes  of  the  veterans  this  experience  did  not 
count.  It  was  a  faute  de  mieux,  in  which  one  would 
give  an  honest  day's  work,  and  no  more. 

As  has  been  hinted,  even  the  inexperienced  new- 
comer noticed  the  lack  of  enthusiasm,  of  unity. 
Had  he  known  the  loyalty,  devotion,  and  adoration 
that  a  thoroughly  competent  man  wins  from  his 
"  hands,"  the  state  of  affairs  would  have  seemed 
even  more  surprising.  The  lumber-jack  will  work 
sixteen,  eighteen  hours  a  day,  sometimes  up  to  the 
waist  in  water  full  of  floating  ice;  sleep  wet  on  the 
ground  by  a  little  fire;  and  then  next  morning  will 
spring  to  work  at  daylight  with  an  "  Oh,  no,  not 
tired;  just  a  little  stiff,  sir!"  in  cheerful  reply  to 
his  master's  inquiry — for  the  right  man!  Only  it 
must  be  a  strong  man — with  the  strength  of  the 
wilderness  in  his  eye. 

The  next  morning  Radway  transferred  Molly 
and  Jenny,  with  little  Fabian  Laveque  and  two  of 
the  younger  men,  to  Pike  Lake.  There,  earlier  in 
the  season,  a  number  of  pines  had  been  felled  out 
on  the  ice,  cut  in  logs,  and  left  in  expectation  of  ice 
thick  enough  to  bear  the  travoy  "  dray."  Owing 
to  the  fact  that  the  shores  of  Pike  Lake  were  ex- 
tremely precipitous,  it  had  been  impossible  to  travoy 
the  logs  up  over  the  hill. 

Radway  had  sounded  carefully  the  thickness  of 
the  ice  with  an  ax.    Although  the  weather  had  of 

68 


THE  FOREST 

lute  been  sufficiently  cold  for  the  time  of  year,  the 
snow,  as  often  happens,  had  fallen  before  the  tem- 
perature. Under  the  warm  white  blanket,  the  actual 
freezing  had  been  slight.  However,  there  seemed 
to  be  at  least  eight  inches  of  clear  ice,  which  would 
suffice. 

Some  of  the  logs  in  question  were  found  to  be 
half  imbedded  in  the  ice.  It  became  necessary  first 
of  all  to  free  them.  Young  Henrys  cut  a  strong  bar 
six  or  eight  feet  long,  while  Pat  McGuire  chopped 
a  hole  alongside  the  log.  Then  one  end  of  the  bar 
was  thrust  into  the  hole,  the  logging  chain  fastened 
to  the  other;  and,  behold,  a  monster  lever,  whose 
fulcrum  was  the  ice  and  whose  power  was  applied 
by  Molly,  hitched  to  the  end  of  the  chain.  In  this 
simple  manner  a  task  was  accomplished  in  five  min- 
utes which  would  have  taken  a  dozen  men  an  hour. 
When  the  log  had  been  cat-a- cornered  from  its  bed, 
the  chain  was  fastened  around  one  end  by  means  of 
the  ever-useful  steel  swamp-hook,  and  it  was  yanked 
across  the  dray.  Then  the  travoy  took  its  careful 
way  across  the  ice  to  where  a  dip  in  the  shore  gave 
access  to  a  skidway. 

Four  logs  had  thus  been  safely  hauled.  The  fifth 
was  on  its  journey  across  the  lake.  Suddenly  with- 
out warning,  and  with  scarcely  a  sound,  both  horses 
sank  through  the  ice,  which  bubbled  up  around  them 
and  over  their  backs  in  irregular  rotted  pieces.  Lit- 
tle Fabian  Laveque  shouted,  and  jumped  down  from 

69 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

his  log.  Pat  McGuire  and  young  Henrys  came 
running. 

The  horses  had  broken  through  an  air-hole,  about 
which  the  ice  was  strong.  Fabian  had  already  seized 
Molly  by  the  bit,  and  was  holding  her  head  easily 
above  water. 

"  Kitch  Jenny  by  dat  he't!  "  he  cried  to  Pat. 

Thus  the  two  men,  without  exertion,  sustained  the 
noses  of  the  team  above  the  surface.  The  position 
demanded  absolutely  no  haste,  for  it  could  have  been 
maintained  for  a  good  half  hour.  Molly  and  Jenny, 
their  soft  eyes  full  of  the  intelligence  of  the  situa- 
tion, rested  easily  in  full  confidence.  But  Pat  and 
Henrys,  new  to  this  sort  of  emergency,  were  badly 
frightened  and  excited.  To  them  the  affair  had 
come  to  a  deadlock. 

"  Oh,  Lord !  "  cried  Pat,  clinging  desperately  to 
Jenny's  headpiece.  "What  will  we'z  be  doin"? 
We  can't  niver  haul  them  two  horses  on  the 
ice." 

"Tak'  de  log  chain,"  said  Fabian  to  Henrys, 
"  an'  tie  him  around  de  nee'  of  Jenny." 

Henrys,  after  much  difficulty  and  nervous  fum- 
bling, managed  to  loosen  the  swamp-hook ;  and  after 
much  more  difficulty  and  nervous  fumbling  suc- 
ceeded in  making  it  fast  about  the  gray  mare's  neck. 
Fabian  intended  with  this  to  choke  the  animal  to 
that  peculiar  state  when  she  would  float  like  a  bal- 
loon on  the  water,  and  two  men  could  with  east* 

70 


THE  FOREST 

draw  her  over  the  edge  of  the  ice.    Then  the  unex- 
pected happened. 

The  instant  Henrys  had  passed  the  end  of  the 
chain  through  the  knot,  Pat,  possessed  by  some 
Hibernian  notion  that  now  all  was  fast,  let  go  of 
the  bit.  Jenny's  head  at  once  went  under,  and  the 
end  of  the  logging  chain  glided  over  the  ice  and  fell 
plump  in  the  hole. 

Immediately  all  was  confusion.  Jenny  kicked 
and  struggled,  churning  the  water,  throwing  it 
about,  kicking  out  in  every  direction.  Once  a  horse's 
head  dips  strongly,  the  game  is  over.  No  animal 
,  drowns  more  quickly.  The  two  young  boys  scram- 
bled away,  and  French  oaths  could  not  induce  them 
to  approach.  Molly,  still  upheld  by  Fabian,  looked 
at  him  piteously  with  her  strange  intelligent  eyes, 
holding  herself  motionless  and  rigid  with  complete 
confidence  in  this  master  who  had  never  failed  her 
before.  Fabian  dug  his  heels  into  the  ice,  but  could 
not  hang  on.  The  drowning  horse  was  more  than  a 
dead  weight.  Presently  it  became  a  question  of  let- 
ting go  or  being  dragged  into  the  lake  on  top  of  the 
animals.  With  a  sob  the  little  Frenchman  relin- 
quished his  hold.  The  water  seemed  slowly  to  rise 
and  over-film  the  troubled  look  of  pleading  in 
Molly's  eyes. 

"  Assassins !  "  hissed  Laveque  at  the  two  unfor- 
tunate youths.    That  was  all. 

When  the  surface  of  the  waters  had  again  mir- 
7* 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

rored  the  clouds,  they  hauled  the  carcasses  out  on 
the  ice  and  stripped  the  harness.  Then  they  rolled 
the  log  from  the  dray,  piled  the  tools  on  it,  and  took 
their  way  to  camp.  In  the  blue  of  the  winter's  sky 
was  a  single  speck. 

The  speck  grew.  Soon  it  swooped.  With  a 
hoarse  croak  it  lit  on  the  snow  at  a  wary  distance, 
and  began  to  strut  back  and  forth.  Presently,  its 
suspicions  at  rest,  the  raven  advanced,  and  with 
eager  beak  began  its  dreadful  meal.  By  this  time 
another,  which  had  seen  the  first  one's  swoop,  was 
in  view  through  the  ether;  then  another;  then  an' 
other.  In  an  hour  the  brotherhood  of  ravens,  thus 
telegraphically  notified,  was  at  feast. 


72 


CHAPTER   EIGHT 

FABIAN  LAVEQUE  elaborated  the  details  of 
the  catastrophe  with  volubility. 

"  Hee's  not  fonny  dat  she  bre'ks  t'rough,"  he 
said.  "  I  'ave  see  dem  bre'k  t'rough  two,  t'ree  tam 
in  de  day,  but  nevaire  dat  she  get  drown!  Wen 
dose  dam-fool  can't  t'ink  wit'  hees  haid — sacre 
Dieu!  eet  is  so  easy,  to  chok'  dat  ckeval — she  make 
me  cry  wit'  de  eye !  " 

"  I  suppose  it  was  a  good  deal  my  fault,"  com- 
mented Radway,  doubtfully  shaking  his  head,  after 
Laveque  had  left  the  office.  "  I  ought  to  have  been 
surer  about  the  ice." 

"  Eight  inches  is  a  little  light,  with  so  much  snow 
atop,"  remarked  the  scaler  carelessly. 

By  virtue  of  that  same  careless  remark,  however, 
Radway  was  so  confirmed  in  his  belief  as  to  his  own 
culpability  that  he  quite  overlooked  Fabian's  just 
contention — that  the  mere  thinness  of  the  ice  was 
in  reality  no  excuse  for  the  losing  of  the  horses.  So 
Pat  and  Henrys  were  not  discharged — were  not  in- 
structed to  "  get  their  time."  Fabian  Laveque 
promptly  demanded  his. 

"  Sacre  bleu!  "  said  he  to  old  Jackson.  "  I  no 
work  wid  dat  dam-fool  dat  no  t'ink  wit'  hees  haid." 

73 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

This  deprived  the  camp  at  once  of  a  teamster  and 
a  team.  When  you  reflect  that  one  pair  of  horses 
takes  care  of  the  exertions  of  a  crew  of  sawyers, 
several  swampers,  and  three  or  four  cant-hook  men, 
you  will  readily  see  what  a  serious  derangement  their 
loss  would  cause.  And  besides,  the  animals  them- 
selves are  difficult  to  replace.  They  are  big  strong 
beasts,  selected  for  their  power,  staying  qualities, 
and  intelligence,  worth  anywhere  from  three  to  six 
hundred  dollars  a  pair.  They  must  be  shipped  in 
from  a  distance.  And,  finally,  they  require  a  very 
careful  and  patient  training  before  they  are  of  value 
in  co-operating  with  the  nicely  adjusted  efforts  nec- 
essary to  place  the  saw-log  where  it  belongs.  Ready- 
trained  horses  are  never  for  sale  during  the  season. 

Radway  did  his  best.  He  took  three  days  to 
search  out  a  big  team  of  farm  horses.  Then  it  be- 
came necessary  to  find  a  driver.  After  some  delib- 
eration he  decided  to  advance  Bob  Stratton  to  the 
post,  that  "  decker  "  having  had  more  or  less  experi- 
ence the  year  before.  Erickson,  the  Swede,  while 
not  a  star  cant-hook  man,  was  nevertheless  sure  and 
reliable.  Radway  placed  him  in  Stratton's  place. 
But  now  he  must  find  a  swamper.  He  remembered 
Thorpe. 

So  the  young  man  received  his  first  promotion 
toward  the  ranks  of  skilled  labor.  He  gained  at  last 
a  field  of  application  for  the  accuracy  he  had  so  in- 
telligently acquired  while  road-making,  for  now  a 

74 


THE  FOREST 

false  stroke  marred  a  saw-log;  and,  besides,  what 
was  more  to  his  taste,  he  found  himself  near  the 
actual  scene  of  operation,  at  the  front,  as  it  were. 
He  had  under  his  very  eyes  the  process  as  far  as  it 
had  been  carried. 

In  his  experience  here  he  made  use  of  the  same 
searching  analytical  observation  that  had  so  quickly 
taught  him  the  secret  of  the  axe-swing.  He  knew 
that  each  of  the  things  he  saw,  no  matter  how  trivial, 
was  either  premeditated  or  the  product  of  chance* 
If  premeditated,  he  tried  to  find  out  its  reason  for 
being.  If  fortuitous,  he  wished  to  know  the  fact, 
and  always  attempted  to  figure  out  the  possibility  of 
its  elimination. 

So  he  learned  why  and  when  the  sawyers  threw  a 
tree  up  or  down  hill ;  how  much  small  standing  tim- 
ber they  tried  to  fell  it  through;  what  consideration 
held  for  the  cutting  of  different  lengths  of  log ;  how 
the  timber  was  skilfully  decked  on  the  skids  in  such 
a  manner  that  the  pile  should  not  bulge  and  fall, 
and  so  that  the  scaler  could  easily  determine  the 
opposite  ends  of  the  same  log; — in  short,  a  thou- 
sand and  one  little  details  which  ordinarily  a  man 
learns  only  as  the  exigencies  arise  to  call  in  experi- 
ence. Here,  too,  he  first  realized  he  was  in  the  firing 
line. 

Thorpe  had  assigned  him  as  bunk  mate  the  young 
fellow  who  assisted  Tom  Broadhead  in  the  felling. 
Henry  Paul  was  a  f resh-complexioned,  clear-eyed, 

75 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

quick-mannered  young  fellow  with  an  air  of  steady 
responsibility  about  him.  He  came  from  the  south- 
ern part  of  the  State,  where,  during  the  summer,  he 
worked  on  a  little  homestead  farm  of  his  own. 
After  a  few  days  he  told  Thorpe  that  he  was  mar- 
ried, and  after  a  few  days  more  he  showed  his  bunk 
mate  the  photograph  of  a  sweet-faced  young  woman 
who  looked  trustingly  out  of  the  picture. 

"  She's  waitin'  down  there  for  me,  and  it  ain't  so 
very  long  till  spring,"  said  Paul  wistfully.  "  She's 
the  best  little  woman  a  man  ever  had,  and  there 
ain't  nothin'  too  good  for  her>  chummy !  " 

Thorpe,  soul-sick  after  his  recent  experiences  with 
the  charity  of  the  world,  discovered  a  real  pleasure 
in  this  fresh,  clear  passion.  As  he  contemplated 
the  abounding  health,  the  upright  carriage,  the 
sparkling,  bubbling  spirits  of  the  young  woods- 
man, he  could  easily  imagine  the  young  girl  and 
the  young  happiness,  too  big  for  a  little  backwoods 
farm. 

Three  days  after  the  newcomer  had  started  in  at 
the  swamping,  Paul,  during  their  early  morning 
walk  from  camp  to  the  scene  of  their  operations, 
confided  in  him  further. 

"  Got  another  letter,  chummy,"  said  he,  "  come  in 
yesterday.  She  tells  me,"  he  hesitated  with  a  blush, 
and  then  a  happy  laugh,  "  that  they  ain't  going  to 
be  only  two  of  us  at  the  farm  next  year." 

"  You  mean !  "  queried  Thorpe. 
76 


THE  FOREST 

V  Yes,"  laughed  Paul,  ff  and  if  it's  a  girl  she  gets 
named  after  her  mother,  you  bet." 

The  men  separated.  In  a  moment  Thorpe  found 
himself  waist-deep  in  the  pitchy  aromatic  top  of  an 
old  bull-sap,  clipping  away  at  the  projecting 
branches.    After  a  time  he  heard  Paul's  gay  halloo. 

"  Timber !  "  came  the  cry,  and  then  the 
swish-sh-sh — crash !  of  the  tree's  fall. 

Thorpe  knew  that  now  either  Hank  or  Tom  must 
be  climbing  with  the  long  measuring  pole  along  the 
prostrate  trunk,  marking  by  means  of  shallow  axe- 
clips  where  the  saw  was  to  divide  the  logs.  Then 
Tom  shouted  something  unintelligible.  The  other 
men  seemed  to  understand,  however,  for  they 
dropped  their  work  and  ran  hastily  in  the  direction 
of  the  voice.  Thorpe,  after  a  moment's  indecision, 
did  the  same.  He  arrived  to  find  a  group  about  a 
prostrate  man.    The  man  was  Paul. 

Two  of  the  older  woodsmen,  kneeling,  were  con- 
ducting coolly  a  hasty  examination.  At  the  front 
every  man  is  more  or  less  of  a  surgeon. 

"Is  he  hurt  badly?"  asked  Thorpe;  "what  is 
it?" 

"  He's  dead,"  answered  one  of  the  other  men 
soberly. 

With  the  skill  of  ghastly  practice  some  of  them 
wove  a  litter  on  which  the  body  was  placed.  The 
pathetic  little  procession  moved  in  the  solemn,  in= 
scrutable  forest. 

77 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

When  the  tree  had  fallen  it  had  crashed  through 
the  top  of  another,  leaving  suspended  in  the  branches 
of  the  latter  a  long  heavy  limb.  A  slight  breeze  dis- 
lodged it.    Henry  Paul  was  impaled  as  by  a  javelin. 

This  is  the  chief  of  the  many  perils  of  the  woods. 
Like  crouching  pumas  the  instruments  of  a  man's 
destruction  poise  on  the  spring,  sometimes  for  days. 
Then  swiftly,  silently,  the  leap  is  made.  It  is  a 
danger  unavoidable,  terrible,  ever-present.  Thorpe, 
was  destined  in  time  to  see  men  crushed  and  mangled 
in  a  hundred  ingenious  ways  by  the  saw  log,  knocked 
into  space  and  a  violent  death  by  the  butts  of  trees, 
ground  to  powder  in  the  mill  of  a  jam,  but  never 
would  he  be  more  deeply  impressed  than  by  this 
ruthless  silent  taking  of  a  life.  The  forces  of  nature 
are  so  tame,  so  simple,  so  obedient;  and  in  the  next 
instant  so  absolutely  beyond  human  control  or  direc- 
tion, so  whirlingly  contemptuous  of  puny  human 
effort,  that  in  time  the  wilderness  shrouds  itself  to 
our  eyes  in  the  same  impenetrable  mystery  as  the  sea. 

That  evening  the  camp  was  unusually  quiet.  Tal- 
lier  let  his  fiddle  hang.  After  supper  Thorpe  was 
approached  by  Purdy,  the  reptilian  red-head  with 
whom  he  had  had  the  row  some  evenings  before. 

"  You  in,  chummy?  "  he  asked  in  a  quiet  voice. 
"  It's  a  five  apiece  for  Hank's  woman." 

"  Yes,"  said  Thorpe. 

The  men  were  earning  from  twenty  to  thirty  dol- 
lars a  month.    They  had,  most  of  them,  never  seen 

78 


THE  FOREST 

Hank  Paul  before  this  autumn.  He  had  not,  mainly 
because  of  his  modest  disposition,  enjoyed  any 
extraordinary  degree  of  popularity.  Yet  these 
strangers  cheerfully,  as  a  matter  of  course,  gave  up 
the  proceeds  of  a  week's  hard  work,  and  that  without 
expecting  the  slightest  personal  credit.  The  money 
was  sent  "  from  the  boys.'5  Thorpe  later  read  a 
heart-broken  letter  of  thanks  to  the  unknown  bene- 
factors. It  touched  him  deeply,  and  he  suspected 
the  other  men  of  the  same  emotions,  but  by  that 
time  they  had  regained  the  independent,  self-con- 
tained poise  of  the  frontiersman.  They  read  it  with 
unmoved  faces,  and  tossed  it  aside  with  a  more  than 
ordinarily  rough  joke  or  oath.  Thorpe  understood 
their  reticence.  It  was  a  part  of  his  own  nature. 
He  felt  more  than  ever  akin  to  these  men. 

As  swamper  he  had  more  or  less  to  do  with  a  cant- 
hook  in  helping  the  teamsters  roll  the  end  of  the  log 
on  the  little  "  dray."  He  soon  caught  the  knack. 
Toward  Christmas  he  had  become  a  fairly  efficient 
cant-hook  man,  and  was  helping  roll  the  great  sticks 
of  timber  up  the  slanting  skids.  Thus  always  in- 
telligence counts,  especially  that  rare  intelligence 
which  resolves  into  the  analytical  and  the  minutely 
observing. 

On  Sundays  Thorpe  fell  into  the  habit  of  accom- 
panying old  Jackson  Hines  on  his  hunting  expedi- 
tions. The  ancient  had  been  raised  in  the  woods. 
He  seemed  to  know  by  instinct  the  haunts  and  habits 

79 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

of  all  the  wild  animals,  just  as  he  seemed  to  know- 
by  instinct  when  one  of  his  horses  was  likely  to  be 
troubled  by  the  colic.  His  woodcraft  was  really 
remarkable. 

So  the  two  would  stand  for  hours  in  the  early 
morning  and  late  evening  waiting  for  deer  on  the 
edges  of  the  swamps.  They  haunted  the  runways 
during  the  middle  of  the  day.  On  soft  moccasined 
feet  they  stole  about  in  the  evening  with  a  bull's-eye 
lantern  fastened  on  the  head  of  one  of  them  for  a 
"jack."  Several  times  they  surprised  the  wolves, 
and  shone  the  animals'  eyes  like  the  scattered  embers 
of  a  camp  fire. 

Thorpe  learned  to  shoot  at  a  deer's  shoulders 
rather  than  his  heart,  how  to  tell  when  the  animal 
had  sustained  a  mortal  hurt  from  the  way  it  leaped 
and  the  white  of  its  tail.  He  even  made  progress 
in  the  difficult  art  of  still-hunting,  where  the  man 
matches  his  senses  against  those  of  the  creatures  of 
the  forest — and  sometimes  wins.  He  soon  knew  bet- 
ter than  to  cut  the  animal's  throat,  and  learned  from 
Hines  that  a  single  stab  at  a  certain  point  of  the 
chest  was  much  better  for  the  purposes  of  bleeding. 
And,  what  is  more,  he  learned  not  to  overshoot 
down-hill. 

Besides  these  things  Jackson  taught  him  many 
other,  minor,  details  of  woodcraft.  Soon  the  young 
man  could  interpret  the  thousands  of  signs,  so  insig- 
nificant in  appearance  and  so  important  in  reality, 

80 


THE  FOREST 

which  tell  the  history  of  the  woods.  He  acquired 
the  knack  of  winter  fishing. 

These  Sundays  were  perhaps  the  most  nearly  per- 
fect of  any  of  the  days  of  that  winter.  In  them  the 
young  man  drew  more  directly  face  to  face  with  the 
wilderness.  He  called  a  truce  with  the  enemy;  and 
in  return  that  great  inscrutable  power  poured  into 
his  heart  a  portion  of  her  grandeur.  His  ambition 
grew;  and,  as  always  with  him,  his  determination 
became  the  greater  and  the  more  secret.  In  propor- 
tion as  his  ideas  increased,  he  took  greater  pains  to 
shut  them,  m  from  expression.  For  failure  in  great 
things  would  bring  keener  disappointment  than  fail- 
ure in  little. 

He  was  getting  just  the  experience  and  the  knowl- 
edge he  needed;  but  that  was  about  all.  His  wages 
were  twenty-five  dollars  a  month,  which  his  van  bill 
would  reduce  to  the  double  eagle.  At  the  end  of  the 
winter  he  would  have  but  a  little  over  a  hundred 
dollars  to  show  for  his  season's  work,  and  this  could 
mean  at  most  only  fifty  dollars  for  Helen.  But  the 
future  was  his.  He  saw  now  more  plainly  what  he 
had  dimly  perceived  before,  that  for  the  man  who 
buys  timber,  and  logs  it  well,  a  sure  future  is  wait- 
ing. And  in  this  camp  he  was  beginning  to  learn 
from  failure  the  conditions  of  success. 


81 


CHAPTER   NINE 

THEY  finished  cutting  on  section  seventeen 
during  Thorpe's  second  week.  It  became  nec- 
essary to  begin  on  section  fourteen,  which  lay  two 
miles  to  the  east.  In  that  direction  the  character  of 
the  country  changed  somewhat. 

The  pine  there  grew  thick  on  isolated  "  islands  " 
of  not  more  than  an  acre  or  so  in  extent — little 
knolls  rising  from  the  level  of  a  marsh.  In  ordinary 
conditions  nothing  would  have  been  easier  than  to 
have  plowed  roads  across  the  frozen  surface  of  this 
marsh.  The  peculiar  state  of  the  weather  interposed 
tremendous  difficulties. 

The  early  part  of  autumn  had  been  characterized 
by  a  heavy  snowfall  immediately  after  a  series  of 
mild  days.  A  warm  blanket  of  some  thickness  thus 
overlaid  the  earth,  effectually  preventing  the  freez- 
ing which  subsequent  cold  weather  would  have 
caused.  All  the  season  Radway  had  contended  with 
this  condition.  Even  in  the  woods,  muddy  swamp 
and  spring-holes  caused  endless  difficulty  and  neces- 
sitated a  great  deal  of  "  corduroying,"  or  the  laying 
of  poles  side  by  side  to  form  an  artificial  bottom. 
Here  in  the  open  some  six  inches  of  water  and  un- 
limited mud  awaited  the  first  horse   that   shoulo 

82 


THE  FOREST 

break  through  the  layer  of  snow  and  thin  ice.  Be- 
tween each  pair  of  islands  a  road  had  to  be 
"  tramped." 

Thorpe  and  the  rest  were  put  at  this  disagreeable 
job.  All  day  long  they  had  to  walk  mechanically 
back  and  forth  on  diagonals  between  the  marks  set 
by  Radway  with  his  snowshoes.  Early  in  the  morn- 
ing their  feet  were  wet  by  icy  water,  for  even  the 
light  weight  of  a  man  sometimes  broke  the  frozen 
skin  of  the  marsh.  By  night  a  road  of  trampled 
snow,  of  greater  or  less  length,  was  marked  out 
across  the  expanse.  Thus  the  blanket  was  thrown 
back  from  the  warm  earth,  and  thus  the  cold  was 
given  a  chance  at  the  water  beneath.  In  a  day  or 
so  the  road  would  bear  a  horse.  A  bridge  of  ice 
had  been  artificially  constructed,  on  either  side  of 
which  lay  unsounded  depths.  This  road  was  ind(* 
cated  by  a  row  of  firs  stuck  in  the  snow  on  either 
side. 

It  was  very  cold.  All  day  long  the  restless  wind 
swept  across  the  shivering  surface  of  the  plains,  and 
tore  around  the  corners  of  the  islands.  The  big 
woods  are  as  good  as  an  overcoat.  The  overcoat  had 
been  taken  away. 

When  the  lunch-sleigh  arrived,  the  men  huddled 
shivering  in  the  lee  of  one  of  the  knolls,  and  tried  to 
eat  with  benumbed  fingers  before  a  fire  that  was  but 
a  mockery.  Often  it  was  nearly  dark  before  their 
work  had  warmed  them  again.    All  of  the  skidways 

83 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

had  to  be  placed  on  the  edges  of  the  islands  them* 
selves,  and  the  logs  had  to  be  travoyed  over  the 
steep  little  knolls.  A  single  misstep  out  onto  the 
plain  meant  a  mired  horse.  Three  times  heavy 
snows  obliterated  the  roads,  so  that  they  had  to  be 
plowed  out  before  the  men  could  go  to  work  again. 
It  was  a  struggle. 

Radway  was  evidently  worried.  He  often  paused 
before  a  gang  to  inquire  how  they  were  "  making 
it."  He  seemed  afraid  they  might  wish  to  quit, 
which  was  indeed  the  case,  but  he  should  never  have 
taken  before  them  any  attitude  but  that  of  absolute 
confidence  in  their  intentions.  His  anxiety  was  nat- 
ural, however.  He  realized  the  absolute  necessity 
of  skidding  and  hauling  this  job  before  the  heavy 
choking  snows  of  the  latter  part  of  January  should 
make  it  impossible  to  keep  the  roads  open.  So  in- 
sistent was  this  necessity  that  he  had  seized  the  first 
respite  in  the  phenomenal  snowfall  of  the  early 
autumn  to  begin  work.  The  cutting  in  the  woods 
could  wait. 

Left  to  themselves  probably  the  men  would  never 
have  dreamed  of  objecting  to  whatever  privations 
the  task  carried  with  it.  Radway' s  anxiety  for  their 
comfort,  however,  caused  them  finally  to  imagine 
that  perhaps  they  might  have  some  just  grounds  for 
complaint  after  all.  That  is  a  great  trait  of  the 
lumber- jack. 

But  Dyer,  the  scaler,  finally  caused  the  outbreak. 

&4 


THE  FOREST 

Dyer  was  an  efficient  enough  man  in  his  way,  but  he 
loved  his  own  ease.  His  habit  was  to  stay  in  his 
bunk  of  mornings  until  well  after  daylight.  To  this 
there  could  be  no  objection — except  on  the  part  of 
the  cook,  who  was  supposed  to  attend  to  his  business 
himself — for  the  scaler  was  active  in  his  work,  when 
once  he  began  it,  and  could  keep  up  with  the  skid- 
ding. But  now  he  displayed  a  strong  antipathy  to 
the  north  wind  on  the  plains.  Of  course  he  could 
not  very  well  shirk  the  work  entirely,  but  he  did  a 
good  deal  of  talking  on  the  very  cold  mornings. 

"  I  don't  pose  for  no  tough  son-of-a-gun,"  said  he 
to  Radway,  "  and  I've  got  some  respect  for  my  ears 
and  feet.  She'll  warm  up  a  little  by  to-morrow, 
and  perhaps  the  wind' 11  die.  I  can  catch  up  on  you 
fellows  by  hustling  a  little,  so  I  guess  I'll  stay  in 
and  work  on  the  books  to-day." 

"  All  right,"  Radway  assented,  a  little  doubt- 
fully. 

This  happened  perhaps  two  days  out  of  the  week. 
Finally  Dyer  hur.g  out  a  thermometer,  which  he  used 
to  consult.  The  men  saw  it,  and  consulted  it  too. 
At  once  they  felt  much  colder. 

"  She  was  stan'  ten  below,"  sputtered  Baptiste 
Tallier,  the  Frenchman  who  played  the  fiddle.  "  He 
freeze  t'rou  to  hees  eenside.  Dat  is  too  cole  for  mak' 
de  work." 

"  Them  plains  is  sure  a  holy  fright,"  assented 
Purdy. 

85 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  Th'  old  man  knows  it  himself,"  agreed  big 
Nolan;  "  did  you  see  him  rammin'  around  yesterday 
askin'  us  if  we  found  her  too  cold?  He  knows  damn 
well  he  ought  not  to  keep  a  man  out  that  sort  o' 
weather." 

"  You'd  shiver  like  a  dog  in  a  briar  path  on  a 
warm  day  in  July,"  said  Jackson  Hines  contemptu- 
ously. 

"  Shut  up!  "  said  they.  "  You're  barn-boss.  You 
don't  have  to  be  out  in  th'  cold." 

This  was  true.  So  Jackson's  intervention  went 
for  a  little  worse  than  nothing. 

"  It  ain't  lak'  he  has  nuttin'  besides,"  went  on 
Baptiste.  "  He  can  mak'  de  cut  in  de  meedle  of  dc 
fores'." 

"  That's  right,"  agreed  Bob  Stratton,  "  they's  the 
west  half  of  eight  ain't  been  cut  yet." 

So  they  sent  a  delegation  to  Radway.  Big  Nolan 
aras  the  spokesman. 

"  Boss,"  said  he  bluntly,  "  she's  too  cold  to  work 
on  them  plains  to-day.  She's  the  coldest  day  we 
had." 

Radway  was  too  old  a  hand  at  the  business  to 
make  any  promises  on  the  spot. 

"  I'll  see,  boys,"  said  he. 

When  the  breakfast  was  over  the  crew  were  set  to 
making  skidways  and  travoy  roads  on  eight.  This 
was  a  precedent.  In  time  the  work  on  the  plains 
was  grumblingly  done  in  any  weather.     However, 

86 


THE  FOREST 

as  to  this  Radway  proved  firm  enough.  He  was  a 
good  fighter  when  he  knew  he  was  being  imposed 
on.  A  man  could  never  cheat  or  defy  him  openly 
without  collecting  a  little  war  that  left  him  sur- 
prised at  the  jobber's  belligerency.  The  doubtful 
cases,  those  on  the  subtle  line  of  indecision,  found 
him  weak.  He  could  be  so  easily  persuaded  that  he 
was  in  the  wrong.  At  times  it  even  seemed  that  he 
was  anxious  to  be  proved  at  fault,  so  eager  was  he  to 
catch  fairly  the  justice  of  the  other  man's  attitude. 
He  held  his  men  inexorably  and  firmly  to  their  work 
on  the  indisputably  comfortable  days;  but  gave  in 
often  when  an  able-bodied  woodsman  should  have 
seen  in  the  weather  no  inconvenience,  even.  As  the 
days  slipped  by,  however,  he  tightened  the  reins. 
Christmas  was  approaching.  An  easy  mathematical 
computation  reduced  the  question  of  completing  his 
contract  with  Morrison  &  Daly  to  a  certain  weekly 
quota.  In  fact  he  was  surprised  at  the  size  of  it. 
He  would  have  to  work  diligently  and  steadily  dur- 
ing the  rest  of  the  winter. 

Having  thus  a  definite  task  to  accomplish  in  a 
definite  number  of  days,  Radway  grew  to  be  more 
of  a  taskmaster.  His  anxiety  as  to  the  completion 
of  the  work  overlaid  his  morbidly  sympathetic  hu- 
man interest.  Thus  he  regained  to  a  small  degree 
the  respect  of  his  men.    Then  he  lost  it  again. 

One  morning  he  came  in  from  a  talk  with  the  sup* 
ply-teamster,  and  woke  Dyer,  who  was  not  yet  up. 

87 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  I'm  going  down  home  for  two  or  three  weeks," 
he  announced  to  Dyer,  "  you  know  my  address. 
You'll  have  to  take  charge,  and  I  guess  you'd  better 
let  the  scaling  go.  We  can  get  the  tally  at  the 
banking  grounds  when  we  begin  to  haul.  Now  we 
ain't  got  all  the  time  there  is,  so  you  want  to  keep 
the  boys  at  it  pretty  well." 

Dyer  twisted  the  little  points  of  his  mustache. 
"  All  right,  sir,"  said  he  with  his  smile  so  inscrutably 
insolent  that  Radway  never  saw  the  insolence  at  all. 
He  thought  this  a  poor  year  for  a  man  in  Radway's 
position  to  spend  Christmas  with  his  family,  but  it 
was  none  of  his  business. 

"  Do  as  much  as  you  can  in  the  marsh,  Dyer," 
went  on  the  jobber.  "  I  don't  believe  it's  really 
necessary  to  lay  off  any  more  there  on  account  of  the 
weather.  We've  simply  got  to  get  that  job  in  before 
the  big  snows." 

"  All  right,  sir,"  repeated  Dyer. 

The  scaler  did  what  he  considered  his  duty.  All 
day  long  he  tramped  back  and  forth  from  one  gang 
of  men  to  the  other,  keeping  a  sharp  eye  on  the  de- 
tails of  the  work.  His  practical  experience  was  suf- 
ficient to  solve  readily  such  problems  of  broken 
tackle,  extra  expedients,  or  facility  which  the  days 
brought  forth.  The  fact  that  in  him  was  vested  the 
power  to  discharge  kept  the  men  at  work. 

Dyer  was  in  the  habit  of  starting  for  the  marsh 
an  hour  or  so  after  sunrise.     The  crew,  of  course, 


THE  FOREST 

were  at  work  by  daylight.  Dyer  heard  them  often 
through  his  doze,  just  as  he  heard  the  chore-boy 
come  in  to  build  the  fire  and  fill  the  water  pail 
afresh.  After  a  time  the  fire,  built  of  kerosene  and 
pitchy  jack  pine,  would  get  so  hot  that  in  self- 
defense  he  would  arise  and  dress.  Then  he  would 
breakfast  leisurely. 

Thus  he  incurred  the  enmity  of  the  cook  and 
cookee.  Those  individuals  have  to  prepare  food 
three  times  a  day  for  a  half  hundred  heavy  eaters; 
besides  which,  on  sleigh-haul,  they  are  supposed  to 
serve  a  breakfast  at  three  o'clock  for  the  loaders 
and  a  variety  of  lunches  up  to  midnight  for  the 
sprinkler  men.  As  a  consequence,  they  resent  in- 
fractions of  the  little  system  they  may  have  been 
able  to  introduce. 

Now  the  business  of  a  foreman  is  to  be  up  as  soon 
as  anybody.  He  does  none  of  the  work  himself,  but 
he  must  see  that  somebody  else  does  it,  and  does  it 
well.  For  this  he  needs  actual  experience  at  the 
work  itself,  but  above  all  zeal  and  constant  pres- 
ence. He  must  know  how  a  thing  ought  to  be  done, 
and  he  must  be  on  hand  unexpectedly  to  see  how 
its  accomplishment  is  progressing.  Dyer  should 
have  been  out  of  bed  at  first  horn-blow. 

One  morning  he  slept  until  nearly  ten  o'clock.  It 
was  inexplicable !  He  hurried  from  his  bunk,  made 
a  hasty  toilet,  and  started  for  the  dining-room  to  get 
some  sort  of  a  lunch  to  do  him  until  dinner  time. 

8g 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

As  he  stepped  from  the  door  of  the  office  he  caught 
sight  of  two  men  hurrying  from  the  cook  camp  to 
the  men's  camp.  He  thought  he  heard  the  hum  of 
conversation  in  the  latter  building.  The  cookee  set 
hot  coffee  before  him.  For  the  rest,  he  took  what  he 
could  find  cold  on  the  table. 

On  an  inverted  cracker  box  the  cook  sat  reading 
an  old  copy  of  the  Police  Gazette.  Various  fifty- 
pound  lard  tins  were  bubbling  and  steaming  on  the 
range.  The  cookee  divided  his  time  between  them 
and  the  task  of  sticking  on  the  log  walls  pleasing 
patterns  made  of  illustrations  from  cheap  papers 
and  the  gaudy  labels  of  canned  goods.  Dyer  sat 
down,  feeling,  for  the  first  time,  a  little  guilty.  This 
was  not  because  of  a  sense  of  a  dereliction  in  duty, 
but  because  he  feared  the  strong  man's  contempt  for 
inefficiency. 

"  I  sort  of  pounded  my  ear  a  little  long  this  morn- 
ing," he  remarked  with  an  unwonted  air  of  bon- 
homie. 

The  cook  creased  his  paper  with  one  hand  and 
went  on  reading;  the  little  action  indicating  at  the 
same  time  that  he  had  heard,  but  intended  to  vouch- 
safe no  attention.  The  cookee  continued  his  occu- 
pations. 

"  I  suppose  the  men  got  out  to  the  marsh  on 
time,"  suggested  Dyer,  still  easily. 

The  cook  laid  aside  his  paper  and  looked  the  scaler 
in  the  eye. 

90  s 


THE  FOREST 

"You're  the  foreman;  I'm  the  cook,"  said  he. 
"  You  ought  to  know." 

The  cookee  had  paused,  the  paste  brush  in  his 
hand. 

Dyer  was  no  weakling.  The  problem  presenting, 
he  rose  to  the  emergency.  Without  another  word  he 
pushed  back  his  coffee  cup  and  crossed  the  narrow 
open  passage  to  the  men's  camp. 

When  he  opened  the  door  a  silence  fell.  He 
could  see  dimly  that  the  room  was  full  of  lounging 
and  smoking  lumbermen.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  not 
a  man  had  stirred  out  that  morning.  This  was  more 
for  the  sake  of  giving  Dyer  a  lesson  than  of  actually 
shirking  the  work,  for  a  lumber-jack  is  honest  in 
giving  his  time  when  it  is  paid  for. 

"How's  this,  men!  "  cried  Dyer  sharply;  "why 
aren't  you  out  on  the  marsh1?  " 

No  one  answered  for  a  minute.    Then  Baptiste : 

"  He  mak'  too  tarn  cole  for  de  marsh.  Meester 
Radway  he  spik  dat  we  kip  off  dat  marsh  w'en  he 
mak'  cole." 

Dyer  knew  that  the  precedent  was  indisputable. 

"  Why  didn't  you  cut  on  eight  then1?  "  he  asked, 
still  in  peremptory  tones. 

"  Didn't  have  no  one  to  show  us  where  to  begin," 
drawled  a  voice  in  the  corner. 

Dyer  turned  sharp  on  his  heel  and  went  out. 

"  Sore  as  a  boil,  ain't  he !  "  commented  old  Jack- 
son Hines  with  a  chuckle. 

9i 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

In  the  cook  camp  Dyer  was  saying  to  the  cook, 
"  Well,  anyway,  we'll  have  dinner  early  and  get  a 
good  start  for  this  afternoon." 

The  cook  again  laid  down  his  paper.  "  I'm  tend- 
ing to  this  job  of  cook,"  said  he,  "  and  I'm  getting 
the  meals  on  time.  Dinner  will  be  on  time  to-day — 
not  a  minute  early,  and  not  a  minute  late." 

Then  he  resumed  his  perusal  of  the  adventures  of 
ladies  to  whom  the  illustrations  accorded  magnificent 
calf-development. 

The  crew  worked  on  the  marsh  that  afternoon, 
and  the  subsequent  days  of  the  week.  They  labored 
conscientiously  but  not  zealously.  There  is  a  deal 
of  difference,  and  the  lumber-jack's  unaided  con- 
science is  likely  to  allow  him  a  certain  amount  of 
conversation  from  the  decks  of  skidways.  The  work 
moved  slowly.  At  Christmas  a  number  of  the  men 
"  went  out."  Most  of  them  were  back  again  after 
four  or  five  days,  for,  while  men  were  not  plenty, 
neither  was  work.  The  equilibrium  was  nearly 
exact. 

But  the  convivial  souls  had  lost  to  Dyer  the  days 
of  their  debauch,  and  until  their  thirst  for  recuper- 
ative "  Pain  Killer,"  "  Hinckley "  and  Jamaica 
Ginger  was  appeased,  they  were  not  much  good. 
Instead  of  keeping  up  to  fifty  thousand  a  day,  as 
Radway  had  figured  was  necessary,  the  scale  would 
not  have  exceeded  thirty. 

Dyer  saw  all  this  plainly  enough,  but  was  not 
92 


THE  FOREST 

able  to  remedy  it.  That  was  not  entirely  his  fault. 
He  did  not  dare  give  the  delinquents  their  time,  for 
he  would  not  have  known  where  to  fill  their  places. 
This  lay  in  Radway's  experience.  Dyer  felt  that 
responsibilities  a  little  too  great  had  been  forced  on 
him,  which  was  partly  true.  In  a  few  days  the 
young  man's  facile  conscience  had  covered  all  his 
shortcomings  with  the  blanket  excuse.  He  conceived 
that  he  had  a  grievance  against  Radway ! 


93 


CHAPTER   TEN 

RADWAY  returned  to  camp  by  the  6th  of 
January.  He  went  on  snowshoes  over  the  en- 
tire job;  and  then  sat  silently  in  the  office  smoking 
"  Peerless  "  in  his  battered  old  pipe.  Dyer  watched 
him  amusedly,  secure  in  his  grievance  in  case  blame 
should  be  attached  to  him.  The  jobber  looked  older. 
The  lines  of  dry  good-humor  about  his  eyes  had 
subtly  changed  to  an  expression  of  pathetic  anxiety. 
He  attached  no  blame  to  anybody,  but  rose  the  next 
morning  at  horn-blow,  and  the  men  found  they  had 
a  new  master  over  them. 

And  now  the  struggle  with  the  wilderness  came  to 
grapples.  Radway  was  as  one  possessed  by  a  burn- 
ing fever.  He  seemed  everywhere  at  once,  always 
helping  with  his  own  shoulder  and  arm,  hurrying 
eagerly.  For  once  luck  seemed  with  him.  The 
marsh  was  cut  over ;  the  "  eighty  "  on  section  eight 
was  skidded  without  a  break.  The  weather  held 
cold  and  clear. 

Now  it  became  necessary  to  put  the  roads  in  shape 
for  hauling.  All  winter  the  blacksmith,  between 
his  tasks  of  shoeing  and  mending,  had  occupied  his 
time  in  fitting  the  iron-work  on  eight  log-sleighs 
which  the  carpenter  had  hewed  from  solid  sticks  *^f 

94 


THE  FOREST 

timber.  They  were  tremendous  affairs,  these  sleighs, 
with  runners  six  feet  apart,  and  bunks  nine  feet  in 
width  for  the  reception  of  logs.  The  bunks  were  sc 
connected  by  two  loosely  coupled  rods  that,  when 
emptied,  they  could  be  swung  parallel  with  the  road, 
so  reducing  the  width  of  the  sleigh.  The  carpentei 
had  also  built  two  immense  tanks  on  runners,  hold- 
ing each  some  seventy  barrels  of  water,  and  with 
holes  so  arranged  in  the  bottom  and  rear  that  on  the 
withdrawal  of  plugs  the  water  would  flood  the  entire 
width  of  the  road.  These  sprinklers  were  filled  by 
horse-power.  A  chain  running  through  blocks  at- 
tached to  a  solid  upper  framework,  like  the  open 
belfry  of  an  Italian  monastery,  dragged  a  barrel  up 
a  wooden  track  from  the  water  hole  to  the  opening 
in  the  sprinkler.  When  in  action  this  formidable 
machine  weighed  nearly  two  tons  and  resembled  a 
moving  house.  Other  men  had  felled  two  big  hem- 
locks, from  which  they  had  hewed  beams  for  a  V 
plow. 

The  V  plow  was  now  put  in  action.  Six  horses 
drew  it  down  the  road,  each  pair  superintended  by  a 
driver.  The  machine  was  weighted  down  by  a  num- 
ber of  logs  laid  across  the  arms.  Men  guided  it  by 
levers,  and  by  throwing  their  weight  against  the  fans 
of  the  plow.  It  was  a  gay,  animated  scene  this,  full 
of  the  spirit  of  winter  —  the  plodding,  straining 
horses,  the  brilliantly  dressed,  struggling  men,  the 
sullen-yielding   snow    thrown    to    either    side,    the 

95 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

shouts,  warnings,  and  commands.  To  right  and  left 
grew  white  banks  of  snow.  Behind  stretched  a 
broad  white  path  in  which  a  scant  inch  hid  the  bare 
earth. 

For  some  distance  the  way  led  along  compar- 
atively high  ground.  Then,  skirting  the  edge  of  a 
lake,  it  plunged  into  a  deep  creek  bottom  between 
hills.  Here,  earlier  in  the  year,  eleven  bridges  had 
been  constructed,  each  a  labor  of  accuracy;  and  per- 
haps as  many  swampy  places  had  been  "  cordu- 
royed "  by  carpeting  them  with  long  parallel  poles. 
Now  the  first  difficulty  began. 

Some  of  the  bridges  had  sunk  below  the  level,  and 
the  approaches  had  to  be  corduroyed  to  a  practicable 
grade.  Others  again  were  humped  up  like  tom-catSi 
and  had  to  be  pulled  apart  entirely.  In  spots  the 
"  corduroy "  had  spread,  so  that  the  horses  thrust 
their  hoofs  far  down  into  leg-breaking  holes.  The 
experienced  animals  were  never  caught,  however. 
As  soon  as  they  felt  the  ground  giving  way  beneath 
one  foot,  they  threw  their  weight  on  the  other. 

Still,  that  sort  of  thing  was  to  be  expected.  A 
gang  of  men  who  followed  the  plow  carried  axes 
and  cant-hooks  for  the  purpose  of  repairing  extem- 
poraneously just  such  defects,  which  never  would 
have  been  discovered  otherwise  than  by  the  practical 
experience.  Radway  himself  accompanied  the  plow. 
Thorpe,  who  went  along  as  one  of  the  "  road  monk- 
eys," saw  now  why  such  care  had  been  required  of 

96 


THE  FOREST 

him  in  smoothing  the  way  of  stubs,  knots,  and  hum- 
mocks. 

Down  the  creek  an  accident  occurred  on  this  ac- 
count. The  plow  had  encountered  a  drift.  Three 
times  the  horses  had  plunged  at  it,  and  three  times 
had  been  brought  to  a  stand,  not  so  much  by  the 
drag  of  the  V  plow  as  by  the  wallowing  they  them- 
selves had  to  do  in  the  drift. 

"  No  use,  break  her  through,  boys,"  said  Radway. 

So  a  dozen  men  hurled  their  bodies  through,  mak- 
ing an  opening  for  the  horses. 

"  Hi !  yup !  "  shouted  the  three  teamsters,  gather- 
ing up  their  reins. 

The  horses  put  their  heads  down  and  plunged. 
The  whole  apparatus  moved  with  a  rush,  men  cling- 
ing, animals  digging  their  hoofs  in,  snow  flying. 
Suddenly  there  came  a  check,  then  a  crack,  and  then 
the  plow  shot  forward  so  suddenly  and  easily  that 
the  horses  all  but  fell  on  their  noses.  The  flanging 
arms  of  the  V,  forced  in  a  place  too  narrow,  had 
caught  between  heavy  stubs.  One  of  the  arms  had 
broken  square  off. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  fell  another  hem- 
lock and  hew  out  another  beam,  which  meant  a  day 
lost.  Radway  occupied  his  men  with  shovels  in 
clearing  the  edge  of  the  road,  and  started  one  of  his 
sprinklers  over  the  place  already  cleared.  Water 
holes  of  suitable  size  had  been  blown  in  the  creek 
bank  by  dynamite.    There  the  machines  were  filled. 

97 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

It  was  a  slow  process.  Stratton  attached  his  horse 
to  the  chain  and  drove  him  back  and  forth,  hauling 
the  barrel  up  and  down  the  slideway.  At  the  bot- 
tom it  was  capsized  and  filled  by  means  of  a  long 
pole  shackled  to  its  bottom  and  manipulated  by  old 
man  Heath.  At  the  top  it  turned  over  by  its  own 
weight.     Thus  seventy-odd  times. 

Then  Fred  Green  hitched  his  team  on,  and  the 
four  horses  drew  the  creaking,  cumbrous  vehicle 
spouting  down  the  road.  Water  gushed  in  fans 
from  the  openings  on  either  side  and  beneath;  and 
in  streams  from  two  holes  behind.  Not  for  an  in- 
stant as  long  as  the  flow  continued  dared  the  team- 
sters breathe  their  horses,  for  a  pause  would  freeze 
the  runners  tight  to  the  ground.  A  tongue  at  eicher 
end  obviated  the  necessity  of  turning  around. 

While  the  other  men  hewed  at  the  required  beam 
for  the  broken  V  plow,  Heath,  Stratton,  and  Green 
went  over  the  cleared  road  length  once.  To  do  so 
required  three  sprinklerfuls.  When  the  road  should 
be  quite  free,  and  both  sprinklers  running,  they 
would  have  to  keep  at  it  until  after  midnight. 

And  then  silently  the  wilderness  stretched  forth 
her  hand  and  pushed  these  struggling  atoms  back  to 
their  place. 

That  night  it  turned  warmer.  The  change  was 
heralded  by  a  shift  of  wind.  Then  some  blue-jays 
appeared  from  nowhere  and  began  to  scream  at  their 
more  silent  brothers,  the  whiskey  jacks. 

98 


THE  FOREST 

"  She's  goin*  to  rain,"  said  old  Jackson.  "  The 
air  is  kind  o'  holler." 

"Hollow?"  said  Thorpe,  laughing.  "How  is 
that?  " 

"  I  don'  no,"  confessed  Hines,  "  but  she  is.  She 
jest  feels  that  way." 

In  the  morning  the  icicles  dripped  from  the  roof, 
and  although  the  snow  did  not  appreciably  melt,  it 
shrank  into  itself  and  became  pockmarked  on  the 
surface. 

Radway  was  down  looking  at  the  road. 

"  She's  holdin'  her  own,"  said  he,  "  but  there 
ain't  any  use  putting  more  water  on  her.  She  ain't 
freezing  a  mite.    We'll  plow  her  out." 

So  they  finished  the  job,  and  plowed  her  out,  leav- 
ing exposed  the  wet,  marshy  surface  of  the  creek- 
bottom,  on  which  at  night  a  thin  crust  formed. 
Across  the  marsh  the  old  tramped  road  held  up  the 
horses,  and  the  plow  swept  clear  a  little  wider 
swath. 

"  She'll  freeze  a  little  to-night,"  said  Radway 
hopefully.  "  You  sprinkler  boys  get  at  her  and  wet 
her  down." 

Until  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  four  teams 
and  the  six  men  creaked  back  and  forth  spilling 
hardly  gathered  water  —  weird,  unearthly,  in  the 
flickering  light  of  their  torches.  Then  they  crept  in 
and  ate  sleepily  the  food  that  a  sleepy  cookee  set 
out  for  them. 

99 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

By  morning  the  mere  surface  of  this  sprinkled 
water  had  frozen,  the  remainder  beneath  had  drained 
away,  and  so  Radway  found  in  his  road  considerable 
patches  of  shell  ice,  useless,  crumbling.  He  looked 
in  despair  at  the  sky.  Dimly  through  the  gray  he 
caught  the  tint  of  blue. 

The  sun  came  out.  Nuthatches  and  woodpeckers 
ran  gayly  up  the  warming  trunks  of  the  trees.  Blue- 
jays  fluffed  and  perked  and  screamed  in  the  hard- 
wood tops.  A  covey  of  grouse  ventured  from  the 
swamp  and  strutted  vainly,  a  pause  of  contemplation 
between  each  step.  Radway,  walking  out  on  the 
tramped  road  of  the  marsh,  cracked  the  artificial 
skin  and  thrust  his  foot  through  into  icy  water. 
That  night  the  sprinklers  stayed  in. 

The  devil  seemed  in  it.  If  tfie  thaw  would  only 
cease  before  the  ice  bottom  so  laboriously  con- 
structed was  destroyed!  Radway  vibrated  between 
the  office  and  the  road.  Men  were  lying  idle;  teams 
were  doing  the  same.  Nothing  went  on  but  the  days 
of  the  y^ar;  and  four  of  them  had  already  ticked 
off  the  calendar.  The  deep  snow  of  the  unusually 
cold  autumn  had  now  disappeared  from  the  tops  of 
the  stumps.  Down  in  the  swamp  the  covey  of 
partridges  were  beginning  to  hope  that  in  a  few 
days  more  they  might  discover  a  bare  spot  in  the 
burnings.  It  even  stopped  freezing  during  the 
night.  At  times  Dyer's  little  thermometer  marked 
as  high  as  forty  degrees. 

ioo 


THE  FOREST 

"  I  often  heard  this  was  a  sort  'v  summer  resort," 
observed  Tom  Broadhead,  "  but  danged  if  I  knew  it 
was  a  summer  resort  all  the  year  'round." 

The  weather  got  to  be  the  only  topic  of  conversa- 
tion. Each  had  his  say,  his  prediction.  It  became 
maddening.  Toward  evening  the  chill  of  melting 
snow  would  deceive  many  into  the  belief  that  a  cold 
■snap  was  beginning. 

"  She'll  freeze  before  morning,  sure,"  was  the 
hopeful  comment. 

And  then  in  the  morning  the  air  would  be  more 
balmily  insulting  than  ever. 

"  Old  man  is  as  blue  as  a  whetstone,"  commented 
Jackson  Hines,  "  an'  I  don't  blame  him.  This 
weather' d  make  a  man  mad  enough  to  eat  the  devil 
with  his  horns  left  on." 

By  and  by  it  got  to  be  a  case  of  looking  on  the 
bright  side  of  the  affair  from  pure  reaction. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Radway,  "  it  won't  be  so 
bad  after  all.  A  couple  of  days  of  zero  weather, 
with  all  this  water  lying  around,  would  fix  things 
up  in  pretty  good  shape.  If  she  only  freezes  tight, 
we'll  have  a  good  solid  bottom  to  build  on,  and 
that'll  be  quite  a  good  rig  out  there  on  the  marsh." 

The  inscrutable  goddess  of  the  wilderness  smiled, 
and  calmly,  relentlessly,  moved  her  next  pawn. 

It  was  all  so  unutterably  simple,  and  yet  so  ef- 
fective. Something  there  was  in  it  of  the  calm 
ir/evitability  of  fate.     It  snowed. 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

All  night  and  all  day  the  great  flakes  zigzagged 
softly  down  through  the  air.  Radway  plowed  away 
two  feet  of  it.  The  surface  was  promptly  covered 
by  a  second  storm.  Radway  doggedly  plowed  it  out 
again. 

This  time  the  goddess  seemed  to  relent.  The 
ground  froze  solid.  The  sprinklers  became  assidu- 
ous in  their  labor.  Two  days  later  the  road  was 
ready  for  the  first  sleigh,  its  surface  of  thick,  glassy 
ice,  beautiful  to  behold;  the  ruts  cut  deep  and  true; 
the  grades  sanded,  or  sprinkled  with  retarding  hay 
on  the  descents.  At  the  river  the  banking  ground 
proved  solid.  Radway  breathed  again,  then  sighed. 
Spring  was  eight  days  nearer.  He  was  eight  days 
more  behind. 


102 


CHAPTER   ELEVEN 

AS  soon  as  loading  began,  the  cook  served  break- 
fast at  three  o'clock.  The  men  worked  by  the 
light  of  torches,  which  were  often  merely  catsup 
jugs  with  wicking  in  the  necks.  Nothing  could  be 
more  picturesque  than  a  teamster  conducting  one  of 
his  great  pyramidical  loads  over  the  little  inequali- 
ties of  the  road,  in  the  ticklish  places  standing  atop 
with  the  bent  knee  of  the  Roman  charioteer,  spying 
and  forestalling  the  chances  of  the  way  with  a  fixed 
eye  and  an  intense  concentration  that  relaxed  not  one 
inch  in  the  miles  of  the  haul.  Thorpe  had  become  a 
full-fledged  cant-hook  man. 

He  liked  the  work.  There  is  about  it  a  skill  that 
fascinates.  A  man  grips  suddenly  with  the  hook  of 
his  strong  instrument,  stopping  one  end  that  the 
other  may  slide;  he  thrusts  the  short,  strong  stock 
between  the  log  and  the  skid,  allowing  it  to  be  over- 
run; he  stops  the  roll  with  a  sudden  sure  grasp 
applied  at  just  the  right  moment  to  be  effective. 
Sometimes  he  allows  himself  to  be  carried  up  bodily, 
clinging  to  the  cant-hook  like  an  acrobat  to  a  bar, 
until  the  log  has  rolled  once;  when,  his  weapon 
loosened,  he  drops  lightly,  easily  to  the  ground.  And 
it  is  exciting  to  pile  the  logs  on  the  sleigh,  first  a 

103 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

layer  of  five,  say;  then  one  of  six  smaller;  of  but 
three;  of  two;  until,  at  the  very  apex,  the  last  is 
dragged  slowly  up  the  skids,  poised,  and,  just  as  it 
is  about  to  plunge  down  the  other  side,  is  gripped 
and  held  inexorably  by  the  little  men  in  blue  flannel 
shirts. 

Chains  bind  the  loads.  And  if  ever,  during  the 
loading,  or  afterward  when  the  sleigh  is  in  motion, 
the  weight  of  the  logs  causes  the  pyramid  to  break 
down  and  squash  out; — then  woe  to  the  driver,  or 
whoever  happens  to  be  near!  A  saw  log  does  not 
make  a  great  deal  of  fuss  while  falling,  but  it  falls 
through  anything  that  happens  in  its  way,  and  a 
man  who  gets  mixed  up  in  a  load  of  twenty-five  or 
thirty  of  them  obeying  the  laws  of  gravitation  from 
a  height  of  some  fifteen  to  twenty  feet,  can  be 
crushed  into  strange  shapes  and  fragments.  For  this 
reason  the  loaders  are  picked  and  careful  men. 

At  the  banking  grounds,  which  lie  in  and  about 
the  bed  of  the  river,  the  logs  are  piled  in  a  gigantic 
skidway  to  await  the  spring  freshets,  which  will 
carry  them  down  stream  to  the  "  boom."  In  that 
enclosure  they  remain  until  sawed  in  the  mill. 

Such  is  the  drama  of  the  saw  log,  a  story  of  grit, 
resourcefulness,  adaptability,  fortitude  and  ingenu- 
ity hard  to  match.  Conditions  never  repeat  them- 
selves in  the  woods  as  they  do  in  the  factory.  The 
wilderness  offers  ever  new  complications  to  solve, 
difficulties  to  overcome.     A  man  must  think  of 

104 


THE  FOREST 

everything,  figure  on  everything,  from  the  grand 
sweep  of  the  country  at  large  to  the  pressure  on  a 
king-bolt.  And  where  another  possesses  the  bound- 
less resources  of  a  great  city,  he  has  to  rely  on  the 
material  stored  in  one  corner  of  a  shed.  It  is  easy 
to  build  a  palace  with  men  and  tools;  it  is  difficult 
to  build  a  log  cabin  with  nothing  but  an  axe.  His 
wits  must  help  him  where  his  experience  fails;  and 
his  experience  must  push  him  mechanically  along 
the  track  of  habit  when  successive  buffetings  have 
beaten  his  wits  out  of  his  head.  In  a  day  he  must 
construct  elaborate  engines,  roads,  and  implements 
which  old  civilization  considers  the  works  of  leisure. 
Without  a  thought  of  expense  he  must  abandon  as 
temporary,  property  which  other  industries  cry  out 
at  being  compelled  to  acquire  as  permanent.  For 
this  reason  he  becomes  in  time  different  from  his  fel- 
lows. The  wilderness  leaves  something  of  her  mys- 
tery in  his  eyes,  that  mystery  of  hidden,  unknown 
but  guessed,  power.  Men  look  after  him  on  the 
street,  as  they  would  look  after  any  other  pioneer, 
in  vague  admiration  of  a  scope  more  virile  than  their 
own. 

Thorpe,  in  common  with  the  other  men,  had 
thought  Radway's  vacation  at  Christmas  time  a  mis- 
take. He  could  not  but  admire  the  feverish  anima- 
tion that  now  characterized  the  jobber.  Every 
mischance  was  as  quickly  repaired  as  aroused  ex- 
pedient could  do  the  work. 

105 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

The  marsh  received  first  attention.  There  the 
restless  snow  drifted  uneasily  before  the  wind. 
Nearly  every  day  the  road  had  to  be  plowed,  and  the 
sprinklers  followed  the  teams  almost  constantly. 
Often  it  was  bitter  cold,  but  no  one  dared  to  suggest 
to  the  determined  jobber  that  it  might  be  better  to 
remain  indoors.  The  men  knew  as  well  as  he  that 
the  heavy  February  snows  would  block  traffic  be- 
yond hope  of  extrication. 

As  it  was,  several  times  an  especially  heavy  fall 
clogged  the  way.  The  snow-plow,  even  with  extra 
teams,  could  hardly  force  its  path  through.  Men 
with  shovels  helped.  Often  but  a  few  loads  a  day, 
and  they  small,  could  be  forced  to  the  banks  by  the 
utmost  exertions  of  the  entire  crew.  Esprit  de  corps 
awoke.  The  men  sprang  to  their  tasks  with  alacrity, 
gave  more  than  an  hour's  exertion  to  each  of  the 
twenty-four,  took  a  pride  in  repulsing  the  assaults 
of  the  great  enemy,  whom  they  personified  under  the 
generic  "  She."  Mike  McGovern  raked  up  a  saint 
somewhere  whom  he  apostrophized  in  a  personal 
and  familiar  manner. 

He  hit  his  head  against  an  overhanging  branch. 

"  You're  a  nice  wan,  now  ain't  ye?  "  he  cried 
angrily  at  the  unfortunate  guardian  of  his  soul. 
"  Dom  if  Oi  don't  quit  ye !    Ye  see !  " 

"  Be  the  gate  of  Hivin!  "  he  shouted,  when  he 
opened  the  door  of  mornings  and  discovered  another 
six  inches  of  snow,  "  Ye're  a  burrd !    If  Oi  couldn't 

106 


THE  FOREST 

make  out  to  be  more  of  a  saint  than  that,  Oi'd  quit 
the  biznis !  Move  yor  pull,  an'  get  us  some  dacint 
weather !  Ye  awt  t'  be  road  monkeyin'  on  th'  golden 
streets,  thot's  what  ye  awt  to  be  doin' !  " 

Jackson  Hines  was  righteously  indignant,  but 
with  the  shrewdness  of  the  old  man,  put  the  blame 
partly  where  it  belonged. 

"  I  ain't  sayin',"  he  observed  judicially,  "  that 
this  weather  ain't  hell.  It's  hell  and  repeat.  But  a 
man  jort've  got  to  expec'  weather.  He  looks  for  it, 
and  he  oughta  be  ready  for  it.  The  trouble  is  we 
got  behind  Christmas.  It's  that  Dyer.  He's  about 
as  mean  as  they  make  'em.  The  only  reason  he 
didn't  die  long  ago  is  becuz  th'  Devil's  thought  him 
too  mean  to  pay  any  'tention  to.  If  ever  he  should 
die  an'  go  to  Heaven  he'd  pry  up  th'  golden  streets 
an'  use  the  infernal  pit  for  a  smelter." 

With  this  magnificent  bit  of  invective,  Jackson 
seized  a  lantern  and  stumped  out  to  see  that  the 
teamsters  fed  their  horses  properly. 

"  Didn't  know  you  were  a  miner,  Jackson,"  called 
Thorpe,  laughing. 

"  Young  feller,"  replied  Jackson  at  the  door,  "  it's 
a  lot  easier  to  tell  what  I  ain't  been." 

So  floundering,  battling,  making  a  little  progress 
every  day,  the  strife  continued. 

One  morning  in  February,  Thorpe  was  helping 
load  a  big  butt  log.  He  was  engaged  in  "  sending 
up  " ;  that  is,  he  was  one  of  the  two  men  who  stand 

107 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

at  either  side  of  the  skids  to  help  the  ascending  log 
keep  straight  and  true  to  its  bed  on  the  pile.  His 
assistant's  end  caught  on  a  sliver,  ground  for  a  sec- 
ond, and  slipped  back.  Thus  the  log  ran  slanting 
across  the  skids  instead  of  perpendicular  to  them. 
To  rectify  the  fault,  Thorpe  dug  his  cant-hook  into 
the  timber  and  threw  his  weight  on  the  stock.  He 
hoped  in  this  manner  to  check  correspondingly  the 
ascent  of  his  end.  In  other  words,  he  took  the  place, 
on  his  side,  of  the  preventing  sliver,  so  equalizing 
the  pressure  and  forcing  the  timber  to  its  proper 
position.  Instead  of  rolling,  the  log  slid.  The 
stock  of  the  cant-hook  was  jerked  from  his  hands. 
He  fell  back,  and  the  cant-hook,  after  clinging  for  a 
moment  to  the  rough  bark,  snapped  down  and  hit 
him  a  crushing  blow  on  the  top  of  the  head. 

Had  a  less  experienced  man  than  Jim  Gladys  been 
stationed  at  the  other  end,  Thorpe's  life  would  have 
ended  there.  A  shout  of  surprise  or  horror  would 
have  stopped  the  horse  pulling  on  the  decking  chain ; 
the  heavy  stick  would  have  slid  back  on  the  pros- 
trate young  man,  who  would  have  thereupon  been 
ground  to  atoms  as  he  lay.  With  the  utmost  cool- 
ness Gladys  swarmed  the  slanting  face  of  the  load; 
interposed  the  length  of  his  cant-hook  stock  between 
the  log  and  it;  held  it  exactly  long  enough  to 
straighten  the  timber,  but  not  so  long  as  to  crush 
his  own  head  and  arm;  and  ducked,  just  as  the  great 
piece  of  wood  rumbled  over  the  end  of  the  skids  and 

1 08 


THE  FOREST 

dropped  with  a  thud  into  the  place  Norton,  the 
"  top  "  man,  had  prepared  for  it. 

It  was  a  fine  deed,  quickly  thought,  quickly  dared. 
No  one  saw  it.  Jim  Gladys  was  a  hero,  but  a  hero 
without  an  audience. 

They  took  Thorpe  up  and  carried  him  in,  just  as 
they  had  carried  Hank  Paul  before.  Men  who  had 
not  spoken  a  dozen  words  to  him  in  as  many  days 
gathered  his  few  belongings  and  stuffed  them  awk- 
wardly into  his  satchel.  Jackson  Hines  prepared 
the  bed  of  straw  and  warm  blankets  in  the  bottom 
of  the  sleigh  that  was  to  take  him  out. 

"  He  would  have  made  a  good  boss,"  said  the  old 
fellow.     "  He's  a  hard  man  to  nick." 

Thorpe  was  carried  in  from  the  front,  and  the 
battle  went  on  without  him. 


109 


CHAPTER   TWELVE 

THORPE  never  knew  how  carefully  he  was 
carried  to  camp,  nor  how  tenderly  the  tote 
teamster  drove  his  hay-couched  burden  to  Beeson 
Lake.  He  had  no  consciousness  of  the  jolting  train, 
in  the  baggage  car  of  which  Jimmy,  the  little  brake- 
man,  and  Bud,  and  the  baggage  man  spread  blan- 
kets, and  altogether  put  themselves  to  a  great  deal 
of  trouble.  When  finally  he  came  to  himself,  he 
was  in  a  long,  bright,  clean  room,  and  the  sunset  was 
throwing  splashes  of  light  on  the  ceiling  over  his 
head. 

He  watched  them  idly  for  a  time ;  then  turned  on 
his  pillow.  At  once  he  perceived  a  long,  double  row 
of  clean  white-painted  iron  beds,  on  which  lay  or  sat 
figures  of  men.  Other  figures,  of  women,  glided 
here  and  there  noiselessly.  They  wore  long,  spread- 
ing dove-gray  clothes,  with  a  starched  white  kerchief 
drawn  over  the  shoulders  and  across  the  breast. 
Their  heads  were  quaintly  white-garbed  in  stiff 
wing-like  coifs,  fitting  close  about  the  oval  of  the 
face.  Then  Thorpe  sighed  comfortably,  and  closed 
his  eyes  and  blessed  the  chance  that  he  had  bought  a 
hospital  ticket  of  the  agent  who  had  visited  camp 

SIO 


THE  FOREST 

the  month  before.    For  these  were  Sisters,  and  the 
young  man  lay  in  the  Hospital  of  St.  Mary. 

Time  was  when  the  lumber-jack  who  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  fall  sick  or  to  meet  with  an  accident  was 
in  a  sorry  plight  indeed.  If  he  possessed  a  "  stake," 
he  would  receive  some  sort  of  unskilled  attention  in 
one  of  the  numerous  and  fearful  lumberman's  board- 
ing-houses— just  so  long  as  his  money  lasted,  not 
one  instant  more.  Then  he  was  bundled  brutally 
into  the  street,  no  matter  what  his  condition  might 
be.  Penniless,  without  friends,  sick,  he  drifted  nat- 
urally to  the  county  poorhouse.  There  he  was 
patched  up  quickly  and  sent  out  half-cured.  The 
authorities  were  not  so  much  to  blame.  With  the 
slender  appropriations  at  their  disposal,  they  found 
difficulty  in  taking  care  of  those  who  came  legiti- 
mately under  their  jurisdiction.  It  was  hardly  to 
be  expected  that  they  would  welcome  with  open 
arms  a  vast  army  of  crippled  and  diseased  men  tem- 
porarily from  the  woods.  The  poor  lumber-jack 
was  often  left  broken  in  mind  and  body  from  causes 
which  a  little  intelligent  care  would  have  rendered 
unimportant. 

With  the  establishment  of  the  first  St.  Mary's 
hospital,  I  think  at  Bay  City,  all  this  was  changed. 
Now,  in  it  and  a  half  dozen  others  conducted  on  the 
same  principles,  the  woodsman  receives  the  best  of 
medicines,  nursing,  and  medical  attendance.  From 
one  of  the  numerous  agents  who  periodically  visit 

in 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

the  camps,  he  purchases  for  eight  dollars  a  ticKet 
which  admits  him  at  any  time  during  the  year  to 
the  hospital,  where  he  is  privileged  to  remain  free 
of  further  charge  until  convalescent.  So  valuable 
are  these  institutions,  and  so  excellently  are  they 
maintained  by  the  Sisters,  that  a  hospital  agent  is 
always  welcome,  even  in  those  camps  from  which 
ordinary  peddlers  and  insurance  men  are  rigidly  ex- 
cluded. Like  a  great  many  other  charities  built  on 
a  common-sense  self-supporting  rational  basis,  the 
woods  hospitals  are  under  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church. 

In  one  of  these  hospitals  Thorpe  lay  for  six  weeks 
suffering  from  a  severe  concussion  of  the  brain.    At , 
the  end  of  the  fourth,  his  fever  had  broken,  but  he 
was  pronounced  as  yet  too  weak  to  be  moved. 

His  nurse  was  a  red-cheeked,  blue-eyed,  homely 
little  Irish  girl,  brimming  with  motherly  good- 
humor.  When  Thorpe  found  strength  to  talk,  the 
two  became  friends.  Through  her  influence  he  was 
moved  to  a  bed  about  ten  feet  from  the  window. 
Thence  his  privileges  were  three  roofs  and  a  glimpse 
of  the  distant  river. 

The  roofs  were  covered  with  snow.  One  day 
Thorpe  saw  it  sink  into  itself  and  gradually  run 
away.  The  tinkle  tinkle  tank  tank  of  drops  sounded 
from  his  own  eaves.  Down  the  far-off  river,  slug- 
gish reaches  of  ice  drifted.  Then  in  a  night  the 
blue  disappeared  from  the  stream.     It  became  a 

112 


THE  FOREST 

menacing  gray,  and  even  from  his  distance  Thorpe 
could  catch  the  swirl  of  its  rising  waters.  A  day 
or  two  later  dark  masses  drifted  or  shot  across  the 
field  of  his  vision,  and  twice  he  thought  he  distin- 
guished men  standing  upright  and  bold  on  single 
'ogs  as  they  rushed  down  the  current. 

"  What  is  the  date?  "  he  asked  of  the  Sister. 

"  The  elevent'  of  March." 

"  Isn't  it  early  for  the  thaw?  " 

"Listen  to  'im!  "  exclaimed  the  Sister  delight- 
edly. "  Early  is  it !  Sure  th'  freshet  co't  thim  all. 
Look,  darlint,  ye  kin  see  th'  drive  from  here." 

"  I  see,"  said  Thorpe  wearily,  "  when  can  I  get 
out?  " 

"  Not  for  wan  week,"  replied  the  Sister  decidedly. 

At  the  end  of  the  week  Thorpe  said  good-by  to 
his  attendant,  who  appeared  as  sorry  to  see  him  go 
as  though  the  same  partings  did  not  come  to  her  a 
dozen  times  a  year;  he  took  two  days  of  tramping 
the  little  town  to  regain  the  use  of  his  legs,  and 
boarded  the  morning  train  for  Beeson  Lake.  He 
did  not  pause  in  the  village,  but  bent  his  steps  to 
the  river  trail. 


113 


CHAPTER   THIRTEEN 

THORPE  found  the  woods  very  different  from 
when  he  had  first  traversed  them.  They  were 
full  of  patches  of  wet  earth  and  of  sunshine;  of 
dark  pine,  looking  suddenly  worn,  and  of  fresh 
green  shoots  of  needles,  looking  deliciously  spring- 
like. This  was  the  contrast  everywhere — stern,  ear- 
nest, purposeful  winter,  and  gay,  laughing,  careless 
spring.  It  was  impossible  not  to  draw  in  fresh 
spirits  with  every  step. 

He  followed  the  trail  by  the  river.  Butterballs 
and  scoters  paddled  up  at  his  approach.  Bits  of 
rotten  ice  occasionally  swirled  down  the  diminishing 
stream.  The  sunshine  was  clear  and  bright,  but 
silvery  rather  than  golden,  as  though  a  little  of  the 
winter's  snow — a  last  ethereal  incarnation — had 
lingered  in  its  substance.  Around  every  bend 
Thorpe  looked  for  some  of  Radway's  crew  "  driv- 
ing "  the  logs  down  the  current.  He  knew  from 
chance  encounters  with  several  of  the  men  in  Bay 
City  that  Radway  was  still  in  camp;  which  meant, 
of  course,  that  the  last  of  the  season's  operations 
were  not  yet  finished.  Five  miles  farther  Thorpe 
began  to  wonder  whether  this  last  conclusion  might 

114 


THE  FOREST 

not  be  erroneous.  The  Cass  Branch  had  shrunken 
almost  to  its  original  limits.  Only  here  and  there 
a  little  bayou  or  marsh  attested  recent  freshets.  The 
drive  must  have  been  finished,  even  this  early,  for 
the  stream  in  its  present  condition  would  hardly 
float  saw  logs,  certainly  not  in  quantity. 

Thorpe,  puzzled,  walked  on.  At  the  banking 
ground  he  found  empty  skids.  Evidently  the  drive 
was  over.  And  yet  even  to  Thorpe's  ignorance,  it 
seemed  incredible  that  the  remaining  million  and  a 
half  of  logs  had  been  hauled,  banked  and  driven 
during  the  short  time  he  had  lain  in  the  Bay  City 
hospital.  More  to  solve  the  problem  than  in  any 
hope  of  work,  he  set  out  up  the  logging  road. 

Another  three  miles  brought  him  to  camp.  It 
looked  strangely  wet  and  sodden  and  deserted.  In 
fact,  Thorpe  found  a  bare  half  dozen  people  in  it — 
Radway,  the  cook,  and  four  men  who  were  help- 
ing to  pack  up  the  movables,  and  who  later  would 
drive  out  the  wagons  containing  them.  The  jobber 
showed  strong  traces  of  the  strain  he  had  under- 
gone, but  greeted  Thorpe  almost  jovially.  He 
seemed  able  to  show  more  of  his  real  nature  now 
that  the  necessity  of  authority  had  been  definitely 
removed. 

"  Hullo,  young  man,"  he  shouted  at  Thorpe's 
mud-splashed  figure,  "  come  back  to  view  the  re- 
mains?   All  well  again,  heigh?    That's  good!  " 

He  strode  down  to  grip  the  young  fellow  heartily 
"5 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

by  the  hand.  It  was  impossible  not  to  be  charmed 
by  the  sincere  cordiality  of  his  manner. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  through,"  explained 
Thorpe,  "  I  came  to  see  if  I  could  get  a  job." 

"Well  now  I  am  sorry!"  cried  Radway,  "  }'ou 
can  turn  in  and  help  though,  if  you  want  to." 

Thorpe  greeted  the  cook  and  old  Jackson  Hines, 
the  only  two  whom  he  knew,  and  set  to  work  to  tie 
up  bundles  of  blankets,  and  to  collect  axes,  peavies, 
and  tools  of  all  descriptions.  This  was  evidently 
the  last  wagon-trip,  for  little  remained  to  be  done. 

"  I  ought  by  rights  to  take  the  lumber  of  the  roofs 
and  floors,"  observed  Radway  thoughtfully,  "  but  I 
guess  she  don't  matter." 

Thorpe  had  never  seen  him  in  better  spirits.  He 
ascribed  the  older  man's  hilarity  to  relief  over  the 
completion  of  a  difficult  task.  That  evening  the 
seven  dined  together  at  one  end  of  the  long  table. 
The  big  room  exhaled  already  the  atmosphere  of 
desertion. 

"  Not  much  like  old  times,  is  she?  "  laughed  Rad- 
way. "  Can't  you  just  shut  your  eyes  and  hear  Bap- 
tiste  say,  *  Mak'  heem  de  soup  one  tarn  more  for 
me  '  %    She's  pretty  empty  now." 

Jackson  Hines  looked  whimsically  down  the  bare 
board.  "  More  room  than  God  made  for  geese  in 
Ireland,"  was  his  comment. 

After  supper  they  even  sat  outside  for  a  little  time 
to  smoke  their  pipes,  chair-tilted  against  the  logs  of 

116 


THE  FOREST 

the  cabins,  but  soon  the  chill  of  melting  snow  drove 
them  indoors.  The  four  teamsters  played  seven-up 
in  the  cook  camp  by  the  light  of  a  barn  lantern, 
while  Thorpe  and  the  cook  wrote  letters.  Thorpe's 
was  to  his  sister. 

"  I  have  been  in  the  hospital  for  about  a  month," 
he  wrote.  "  Nothing  serious — a  crack  on  the  head, 
which  is  all  right  now.  But  I  cannot  get  home  this 
summer,  nor,  I  am  afraid,  can  we  arrange  about  the 
school  this  year.  I  am  about  seventy  dollars  ahead 
of  where  I  was  last  fall,  so  you  see  it  is  slow  busi- 
ness. This  summer  I  am  going  into  a  mill,  but  the 
wages  for  green  labor  are  not  very  high  there  either," 
and  so  on. 

When  Miss  Helen  Thorpe,  aged  seventeen,  re- 
ceived this  document  she  stamped  her  foot  almost 
angrily.  "  You'd  think  he  was  a  day-laborer!  "  she 
cried.  "  Why  doesn't  he  try  for  a  clerkship  or  some- 
thing in  the  city  where  he'd  have  a  chance  to  use  his 
brains !  " 

The  thought  of  her  big,  strong,  tanned  brother 
chained  to  a  desk  rose  to  her,  and  she  smiled  a  little 
sadly. 

"  I  know,"  she  went  on  to  herself,  "  he'd  rather 
be  a  common  laborer  in  the  woods  than  railroad 
manager  in  the  office.    He  loves  his  out-of-doors." 

"  Helen !  "  called  a  voice  from  below,  "  if  you're 
through  up  there,  I  wish  you'd  come  down  and  help 
me  carry  this  rug  out." 

117 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

The  girl's  eyes  cleared  with  a  snap. 

"  So  do  I !  "  she  cried  defiantly,  "  so  do  I  love 
out-of-doors!  I  like  the  woods  and  the  fields  and 
the  trees  just  as  much  as  he  does,  only  differently; 
but  /  don't  get  out !  " 

And  thus  she  came  to  feeling  rebelliously  that  her 
brother  had  been  a  little  selfish  in  his  choice  of  an 
occupation,  that  he  sacrificed  her  inclinations  to  his 
own.  She  did  not  guess — how  could  she? — his 
dreams  for  her.  She  did  not  see  the  future  through 
his  thoughts,  but  through  his  words.  A  negative 
hopelessness  settled  down  on  her,  which  soon  her 
strong  spirit,  worthy  counterpart  of  her  brother's, 
changed  to  more  positive  rebellion.  Thorpe  had 
aroused  antagonism  where  he  craved  only  love.  The 
knowledge  of  that  fact  would  have  surprised  and 
hurt  him,  for  he  was  entirely  without  suspicion  of  it. 
He  lived  subjectively  to  so  great  a  degree  that  his 
thoughts  and  aims  took  on  a  certain  tangible  ob- 
jectivity— they  became  so  real  to  him  that  he  quite 
overlooked  the  necessity  of  communication  to  make 
them  as  real  to  others.  He  assumed  unquestion- 
ingly  that  the  other  must  know.  So  entirely  had  he 
thrown  himself  into  his  ambition  of  making  a  suit- 
able position  for  Helen,  so  continually  had  he  dwelt 
on  it  in  his  thoughts,  so  earnestly  had  he  striven 
for  it  in  every  step  of  the  great  game  he  was  be- 
ginning to  play,  that  it  never  occurred  to  him  he 
should  also  concede  a  definite  outward  manifestation 

118 


THE  FOREST 

of  his  feeling  in  order  to  assure  its  acceptance 
Thorpe  believed  that  he  had  sacrificed  every  thought 
and  effort  to  his  sister.  Helen  was  becoming  con- 
vinced that  he  had  considered  only  himself. 

After  finishing  the  letter  which  gave  occasion  to 
this  train  of  thought,  Thorpe  lit  his  pipe  and  strolled 
out  into  the  darkness.  Opposite  the  little  office  he 
stopped  amazed. 

Through  the  narrow  window  he  could  see  Radway 
seated  in  front  of  the  stove.  Every  attitude  of  the 
man  denoted  the  most  profound  dejection.  He  had 
sunk  down  into  his  chair  until  he  rested  on  almost 
the  small  of  his  back,  his  legs  were  struck  straight 
out  in  front  of  him,  his  chin  rested  on  his  breast, 
and  his  two  arms  hung  listless  at  his  side,  a  pipe 
half  falling  from  the  fingers  of  one  hand.  All  the 
facetious  lines  had  turned  to  pathos.  In  his  face 
sorrowed  the  anxious,  questing,  wistful  look  of  the 
St.  Bernard  that  does  not  understand. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  boss,  anyway*?" 
aSKed  Thorpe  in  a  low  voice  of  Jackson  Hines,  when 
the  seven-up  game  was  finished. 

"  H'aint  ye  heard1?  "  inquired  the  old  man  in  sur- 
prise. 

"Why,  no.    What?  " 

"  Busted,"  said  the  old  man  sententiously. 

"How?    What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  What  I  say.  He's  busted.  That  freshet  caught 
him  too  quick.    They's  more'n  a  million  and  a  half 

119 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

logs  left  in  the  woods  that  can't  be  got  out  this  year, 
and  as  his  contract  calls  for  a  finished  job,  he  don't 
get  nothin'  for  what  he's  done." 

"  That's  a  queer  rig,"  commented  Thorpe.  "  He's 
done  a  lot  of  valuable  work  here — the  timber's  cut 
and  skidded,  anyway;  and  he's  delivered  a  good  deal 
of  it  to  the  main  drive.  The  M.  &  D.  outfit  get  all 
the  advantage  of  that." 

"  They  do,  my  son.  When  old  Daly's  hand  gets 
near  anything,  it  cramps.  I  don't  know  how  the  old 
man  come  to  make  such  a  contrac',  but  he  did.  Re- 
sult is,  he's  out  his  expenses  and  time." 

To  understand  exactly  the  catastrophe  that  had 
occurred,  it  is  necessary  to  follow  briefly  an  outline 
of  the  process  after  the  logs  have  been  piled  on  the 
banks.  There  they  remain  until  the  break-up  at- 
tendant on  spring  shall  flood  the  stream  to  a  freshet. 
The  rollways  are  then  broken,  and  the  saw  logs 
floated  down  the  river  to  the  mill  where  they  are 
to  be  cut  into  lumber. 

If  for  any  reason  this  transportation  by  water  is 
delayed  until  the  flood  goes  down,  the  logs  are 
stranded  or  left  in  pools.  Consequently  every  logger 
puts  into  the  two  or  three  weeks  of  freshet  water 
a  feverish  activity  which  shall  carry  his  product 
through  before  the  ebb. 

The  exceptionally  early  break-up  of  this  spring, 
combined  with  the  fact  that,  owing  to  the  series  of 
incidents  and  accidents  already  sketched,  the  actual 

120 


THE  FOREST 

cutting  and  skidding  had  fallen  so  far  behind,  caught 
Radway  unawares.  He  saw  his  railways  breaking 
out  while  his  teams  were  still  hauling  in  the  woods. 
In  order  to  deliver  to  the  moutn  of  the  Cass  Branch 
the  three  million  already  banked,  he  was  forced  to 
drop  everything  else  and  attend  strictly  to  the  drive. 
This  left  still,  as  has  been  stated,  a  million  and  a 
half  on  skidways,  which  Radway  knew  he  would 
be  unable  to  get  out  that  year. 

In  spite  of  the  jobber's  certainty  that  his  claim 
was  thus  annulled,  and  that  he  might  as  well  aban- 
don the  enterprise  entirely  for  all  he  would  ever  get 
out  of  it,  he  finished  the  "  drive  "  conscientiously 
and  saved  to  the  Company  the  logs  already  banked 
Then  he  had  interviewed  Daly.  The  latter  refused 
to  pay  him  one  cent.  Nothing  remained  but  to  break 
camp  and  grin  as  best  he  might  over  the  loss  of  his 
winter's  work  and  expenses. 

The  next  day  Radway  and  Thorpe  walked  the  ten 
miles  of  the  river  trail  together,  while  the  teamsters 
and  the  cook  drove  down  the  five  teams.  Under  the 
influence  of  the  solitude  and  a  certain  sympathy 
which  Thorpe  manifested,  Radway  talked — a  very 
little. 

"  I  got  behind;  that's  all  there  is  to  it,"  he  said. 
"  I  s'pose  I  ought  to  have  driven  the  men  a  little ; 
but  still,  I  don't  know.  It  gets  pretty  raid  on 
the  plains.  I  guess  I  bit  off  more  than  I  could 
chew." 

121 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

His  eye  followed  listlessl}-  a  frenzied  squirrel 
swinging  from  the  tops  of  poplars. 

"  I  wouldn't  'a  done  it  for  myself,"  he  went  on. 
"  I  don't  like  the  confounded  responsibility.  They's 
too  much  worry  connected  with  it  all.  I  had  a  good 
snug  little  stake — mighty  nigh  six  thousand.  She's 
all  gone  now.  That'd  have  been  enough  for  me — I 
ain't  a  drinkin'  man.  But  then  there  was  the  woman 
and  the  kid.  This  ain't  no  country  for  woman- 
folks,  and  I  wanted  t'  take  little  Lida  out  o'  here. 
I  had  lots  of  experience  in  the  woods,  and  I've  seen 
men  make  big  money  time  and  again,  who  didn't 
know  as  much  about  it  as  I  do.  But  they  got  there, 
somehow.  Says  I,  I'll  make  a  stake  this  year — I'd 
'a  had  twelve  thousand  in  th'  bank,  if  things'd  have 
gone  right — and  then  we'll  jest  move  down  around 
Detroit  an'  I'll  put  Lida  in  school." 

Thorpe  noticed  a  break  in  the  man's  voice,  and 
glancing  suddenly  toward  him  was  astounded  tt 
catch  his  eyes  brimming  with  tears.  Radway  per- 
ceived  the  surprise. 

"  You  know  when  I  left  Christmas'?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  I  was  gone  two  weeks,  and  them  two  weeks, 
done  me.  We  was  going  slow  enough  before,  God 
knows,  but  even  with  the  rank  weather  and  all,  I 
think  we'd  have  won  out,  if  we  could  have  held 
the  same  gait." 

Radway  paused.    Thorpe  was  silent. 

122 


THE  FOREST 

"  The  boys  thought  it  was  a  mighty  poor  rig,  my 
leaving  that  way." 

He  paused  again  in  evident  expectation  of  a  reply. 
Again  Thorpe  was  silent. 

"  Didn't  they?  "  Radway  insisted. 

"  Yes,  they  did,"  answered  Thorpe. 

The  older  man  sighed.  "  I  thought  so,"  he  went 
on.  "  Well,  I  didn't  go  to  spend  Christmas.  I  went 
because  Jimmy  brought  me  a  telegram  that  Lida 
was  sick  with  diphtheria.  I  sat  up  nights  with  her 
for  'leven  days." 

"  No  bad  after-effects,  I  hope?  "  inquired  Thorpe. 

"  She  died,"  said  Radway  simply. 

The  two  men  tramped  stolidly  on.  This  was  too 
great  an  affair  for  Thorpe  to  approach  except  on  the 
knees  of  his  spirit.  After  a  long  interval,  during 
which  the  waters  had  time  to  still,  the  young  man 
changed  the  subject. 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  get  anything  out  of  M.  & 
D.?"  he  asked. 

"  No.  Didn't  earn  nothing.  I  left  a  lot  of  their 
saw  logs  hung  up  in  the  woods,  where  they'll  de- 
teriorate from  rot  and  worms.  This  is  their  last 
season  in  this  district." 

"Got  anything  left?" 

"  Not  a  cent." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  Do !  "  cried  the  old  woodsman,  the  fire  springing 
to  his  eye.     "  Do !  I'm  going  into  the  woods,  by 

123 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

God!  I'm  going  to  work  with  my  hands,  and  be 
happy!  I'm  going  to  do  other  men's  work  for  them 
and  take  other  men's  pay.  Let  them  do  the  figuring 
and  worrying.  I'll  boss  their  gangs  and  make  their 
roads  and  see  to  their  logging  for  'em,  but  it's  got 
to  be  theirs.  Do!  I'm  going  to  be  a  free  man  by 
the  G.  jumping  Moses!  " 


124 


CHAPTER   FOURTEEN 

THORPE  dedicated  a  musing  instant  to  the  in- 
congruity of  rejoicing  over  a  freedom  gained 
by  ceasing  to  be  master  and  becoming  servant. 

"  Radway,"  said  he  suddenly,  "  I  need  money  and 
I  need  it  bad.  I  think  you  ought  to  get  something 
out  of  this  job  of  the  M.  &  D. — not  much,  but  some- 
thing. Will  you  give  me  a  share  of  what  I  can 
collect  from  them1?  " 

"  Sure !  "  agreed  the  jobber  readily,  with  a  laugh. 
"  Sure !  But  you  won't  get  anything.  I'll  give  you 
ten  per  cent,  quick." 

"  Good  enough !  "  cried  Thorpe. 

"  But  don't  be  too  sure  you'll  earn  day  wages 
doing  it,"  warned  the  other.  "  I  saw  Daly  when  I 
was  down  here  last  week." 

"  My  time's  not  valuable,"  replied  Thorpe. 
"  Now  when  we  get  to  town  I  want  your  power  of 
attorney  and  a  few  figures,  after  which  I  will  not 
bother  you  again." 

The  next  day  the  young  man  called  for  the  second 
time  at  the  little  red-painted  office  under  the  shadow 
of  the  mill,  and  for  the  second  time  stood  before  the 
bulky  power  of  the  junior  member  of  the  firm. 

125 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"Well,  young  man,  what  can  I  do  for  you*?" 
asked  the  latter. 

"  I  have  been  informed,"  said  Thorpe  without 
preliminary,  "  that  you  intend  to  pay  John  Radway 
nothing  for  the  work  done  on  the  Cass  Branch  this 
winter.    Is  that  true"?  " 

Daly  studied  his  antagonist  meditatively.  "  If  it 
is  true,  what  is  it  to  you1?  "  he  asked  at  length. 

"  I  am  acting  in  Mr.  Radway's  interest." 

"  You  are  one  of  Radway's  men?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  In  what  capacity  have  you  been  working  for 
him?" 

"  Cant-hook  man,"  replied  Thorpe  briefly. 

"  I  see,"  said  Daly  slowly.  Then  suddenly,  with 
an  intensity  of  energy  that  startled  Thorpe,  he  cried : 
"  Now  you  get  out  of  here !    Right  off !     Quick !  " 

The  younger  man  recognized  the  compelling  and 
autocratic  boss  addressing  a  member  of  the  crew. 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind !  "  he  replied  with 
a  flash  of  fire. 

The  mill-owner  leaped  to  his  feet  every  inch  a 
leader  of  men.  Thorpe  did  not  wish  to  bring  about 
an  actual  scene  of  violence.  He  had  attained  his 
object,  which  was  to  fluster  the  other  out  of  his 
judicial  calm. 

"  I  have  Radway's  power  of  attorney,"  he  added. 

Daly  sat  down,  controlled  himself  with  an  effort, 
and  growled  out,  "  Why  didn't  you  say  so?  " 

126 


THE  FOREST 

"  Now  I  would  like  to  know  your  position,"  went 
on  Thorpe.  "  I  am  not  here  to  make  trouble,  but 
as  an  associate  of  Mr.  Radway,  I  have  a  right  to 
understand  the  case.     Of  course  I  have  his  side  of 

the  story ,"  he  suggested,  as  though  convinced 

that  a  detailing  of  the  other  side  might  change  his 
views. 

Daly  considered  carefully,  fixing  his  flint-blue 
eyes  unswervingly  on  Thorpe's  face.  Evidently  his 
scrutiny  advised  him  that  the  young  man  was  a 
force  to  be  reckoned  with. 

"  It's  like  this,"  said  he  abruptly,  "  we  contracted 
last  fall  with  this  man  Radway  to  put  in  five  million 
feet  of  our  timber,  delivered  to  the  main  drive  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Cass  Branch.  In  this  he  was 
to  act  independently  except  as  to  the  matter  of 
provisions.  Those  he  drew  from  our  van,  and  was 
debited  with  the  amount  of  the  same.  Is  that 
clear?" 

"  Perfectly,"  replied  Thorpe. 

"  In  return  we  were  to  pay  him,  merchantable 
scale,  four  dollars  a  thousand.  If,  however,  he 
failed  to  put  in  the  whole  job,  the  contract  was 
void." 

"  That's  how  I  understand  it,"  commented 
Thorpe.     "Well?" 

"  Well,  he  didn't  get  in  the  five  million.  There's 
a  million  and  a  half  hung  up  in  the  woods." 

"  But  you  have  in  your  hands  three  million  and  a 
127 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

half,  which  under  the  present  arrangement  you  get 
free  of  any  charge  whatever." 

"  And  we  ought  to  get  it,"  cried  Daly.  "  Great 
guns !  Here  we  intend  to  saw  this  summer  and  quit. 
We  want  to  get  in  every  stick  of  timber  we  own  so 
as  to  be  able  to  clear  out  of  here  for  good  and  all  at 
the  close  of  the  season;  and  now  this  condigned 
jobber  ties  us  up  for  a  million  and  a  half." 

"It  is  exceedingly  annoying,"  conceded  Thorpe, 
"  and  it  is  a  good  deal  of  Radway's  fault,  I  am 
willing  to  admit,  but  it's  your  fault  too." 

"  To  be  sure,"  replied  Daly  with  the  accent  of 
sarcasm. 

"  You  had  no  business  entering  into  any  such  con- 
tract.   It  gave  him  no  show." 

"  I  suppose  that  was  mainly  his  lookout,  wasn't 
it?  and  as  I  already  told  you,  we  had  to  protect 
ourselves." 

"  You  should  have  demanded  security  for  the 
completion  of  the  work.  Under  your  present  agree- 
ment, if  Radway  got  in  the  timber,  you  were  to  pay 
him  a  fair  price.  If  he  didn't,  you  appropriated 
everything  he  had  already  done.  In  other  words, 
you  made  him  a  bet." 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  call  it,"  answered  Daly, 
who  had  recovered  his  good-humor  in  contemplation 
of  the  security  of  his  position.  "  The  fact  stands  all 
right." 

"  It  does,"  replied  Thorpe  unexpectedly,  "  and 
128 


THE  FOREST 

I'm  glad  of  it.  Now  let's  examine  a  few  figures. 
You  owned  five  million  feet  of  timber,  which  at  the 
price  of  stumpage  "  (standing  trees)  "  was  worth 
ten  thousand  dollars." 

"  Well." 

"  You  come  out  at  the  end  of  the  season  with 
three  million  and  a  half  of  saw  logs,  which  with 
the  four  dollars'  worth  of  logging  added,  are  worth 
twenty-one  thousand  dollars." 

"  Hold  on !  "  cried  Daly,  "  we  paid  Radway  four 
dollars;  we  could  have  done  it  ourselves  for  less." 

"  You  could  not  have  done  it  for  one  cent  less 
than  four-twenty  in  that  country,"  replied  Thorpe, 
"  as  any  expert  will  testify." 

"  Why  did  we  give  it  to  Radway  at  four,  then"?  f* 

"  You  saved  the  expense  of  a  salaried  oversee*-, 
and  yourselves  some  bother,"  replied  Thorpe. 
"  Radway  could  do  it  for  less,  because,  for  some 
strange  reason  which  you  yourself  do  not  under- 
stand, a  jobber  can  always  log  for  less  than  a  com- 
pany." 

"  We  could  have  done  it  for  four,"  insisted  Daly 
stubbornly,  "  but  get  on.  What  are  you  driving 
at  9    My  time's  valuable." 

"Well,  put  her  at  four,  then,"  agreed  Thorpe. 
"  That  makes  your  saw  logs  worth  over  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars.  Of  this  value  Radway  added  thirteen 
thousand.  You  have  appropriated  that  much  of  his 
without  paying  him  one  cent." 

129 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Daly  seemed  amused.  *  How  about  the  million 
and  a  half  feet  of  ours  he  appropriated?  "  he  asked 
quietly. 

"  I'm  coming  to  that.  Now  for  your  losses.  At 
the  stumpage  rate  your  million  and  a  half  which 
Radway  '  appropriated '  would  be  only  three  thou- 
sand. But  for  the  sake  of  argument,  we'll  take  the 
actual  sum  you'd  have  received  for  saw  logs.  Even 
then  the  million  and  a  half  would  only  have  been 
worth  between  eight  and  nine  thousand.  Deduct- 
ing this  purely  theoretical  loss,  Radway  has  occa- 
sioned you,  from  the  amount  he  has  gained  for 
you,  you  are  still  some  four  or  five  thousand 
ahead  of  the  game.  For  that  you  paid  him 
nothing." 

"That's  Radway's  lookout." 

41  In  justice  you  should  pay  him  that  amount. 
He  is  a  poor  man.  He  has  sunk  all  he  owned  in 
this  venture,  some  twelve  thousand  dollars,  and  he 
has  nothing  to  live  on.  Even  if  you  pay  him  five 
thousand,  he  has  lost  considerable,  while  you  have 
gained." 

"  How  have  we  gained  by  this  bit  of  philan- 
thropy? " 

"  Because  you  originally  paid  in  cash  for  all  that 
timber  on  the  stump  just  ten  thousand  dollars  and 
you  get  from  Radway  saw  logs  to  the  value  of 
twenty,"  replied  Thorpe  sharply.  "  Besides  you  still 
own  the  million  and  a  half  which,  if  you  do  not 

130 


THE  FOREST 

Care  to  put  them  in  yourself,  you  can  sell  for  some- 
thing on  the  skids." 

"  Don't  you  know,  young  man,  that  white  pine 
logs  on  skids  will  spoil  utterly  in  a  summer? 
Worms  get  into  'em." 

"I  do,"  replied  Thorpe,  "  unless  you  bark  them; 
which  process  will  cost  you  about  one  dollar  a  thou- 
sand. You  can  find  any  amount  of  small  purchasers 
at  reduced  price.  You  can  sell  them  easily  at  three 
dollars.  That  nets  you  for  your  million  and  a  half 
a  little  over  four  thousand  dollars  more.  Under  the 
circumstances,  I  do  not  thinjc  that  my  request  for 
five  thousand  is  at  all  exorbitant." 

Daly  laughed.  "  You  are  a  shrewd  flgurer,  and 
your  remarks  are  interesting,"  said  he. 

"Will  you  give  five  thousand  dollars'?"  asked 
Thorpe. 

"  I  will  not,"  replied  Daly,  then  with  a  sudden 
change  of  humor,  "  and  now  I'll  do  a  little  talking. 
I've  listened  to  you  just  as  long  as  I'm  going  to.  I 
have  Radway's  contract  in  that  safe  and  I  live  up  to 
it.    I'll  thank  you  to  go  plumb  to  hell !  " 

"  That's  your  last  word,  is  it?  "  asked  Thorpe, 
rising. 

"  It  is." 

"  Then,"  said  he  slowly  and  distinctly,  "I'll  tell 
you  what  I'll  do.  I  intend  to  collect  in  full  the  four 
dollars  a  thousand  for  the  three  million  and  a  half 
Mr.  Radway  has  delivered  to  vou.     In  return  Mr. 

131 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Radway  will  purchase  of  you  at  the  stumpage  rates 
of  two  dollars  a  thousand  the  million  and  a  half  he 
failed  to  put  in.  That  makes  a  bill  against  you,  if 
my  figuring  is  correct,  of  just  eleven  thousand  dol- 
lars. You  will  pay  that  bill,  and  I  will  tell  you 
why:  your  contract  will  be  classed  in  any  court  as  a 
gambling  contract  for  lack  of  consideration.  You 
have  no  legal  standing  in  the  world.  I  call  your 
bluff,  Mr.  Daly,  and  I'll  fight  you  from  the  drop 
of  the  hat  through  every  court  in  Christendom." 

"  Fight  ahead,"  advised  Daly  sweetly,  who  knew 
perfectly  well  that  Thorpe's  law  was  faulty.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  the  young  man  could  have  collected 
on  other  grounds,  but  neither  was  aware  of  that. 

"  Furthermore,"  pursued  Thorpe  in  addition, 
*f  I'll  repeat  my  offer  before  witnesses;  and  if  I  win 
ihe  first  suit,  I'll  sue  you  for  the  money  we  could 
have  made  by  purchasing  the  extra  million  and  a 
half  before  it  had  a  chance  to  spoil." 

This  statement  had  its  effect,  for  it  forced  an  im- 
mediate settlement  before  the  pine  on  the  skids 
should  deteriorate.  Daly  lounged  back  with  a  little 
more  deadly  carelessness. 

"  And,  lastly,"  concluded  Thorpe,  playing  his 
trump  card,  "  the  suit  from  start  to  finish  will  be 
published  in  every  important  paper  in  this  country. 
If  you  do  not  believe  I  have  the  influence  to  do  this, 
you  are  at  liberty  to  doubt  the  fact." 

Daly  was  cogitating  many  things.  He  knew  tha^ 
132 


THE  FOREST 

publicity  was  the  last  thing  to  be  desired.  Thorpe's 
statement  had  been  made  in  view  of  the  fact  that 
much  of  the  business  of  a  lumber  firm  is  done  on 
credit.  He  thought  that  perhaps  a  rumor  of  a  big 
suit  going  against  the  firm  might  weaken  confidence. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  this  consideration  had  no  weight 
whatever  with  the  older  man,  although  the  threat 
of  publicity  actually  gained  for  Thorpe  what  he  de- 
manded. The  lumberman  feared  the  noise  of  an 
investigation  solely  and  simply  because  his  firm,  like 
so  many  others,  was  engaged  at  the  time  in  stealing 
government  timber  in  the  upper  peninsula.  He  did 
not  call  it  stealing;  but  that  was  what  it  amounted 
to.    Thorpe's  shot  in  the  air  hit  full. 

"  I  think  we  can  arrange  a  basis  of  settlement," 
he  said  finally.  "  Be  here  to-morrow  morning  at  ten 
with  Radway." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Thorpe. 

"  By  the  way,"  remarked  Daly,  "  I  don't  believe 
I  know  your  name?  " 

"  Thorpe,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Thorpe,"  said  the  lumberman  with 
cold  anger,  "  if  at  any  time  there  is  anything  within 
my  power  or  influence  that  you  want — I'll  see  that 
you  don't  get  it." 


133 


CHAPTER    FIFTEEN 

THE  whole  affair  was  finally  compromised  for 
nine  thousand  dollars.  Radway,  grateful  be- 
yond expression,  insisted  on  Thorpe's  acceptance  of 
an  even  thousand  of  it.  With  this  money  in  hand, 
the  latter  felt  justified  in  taking  a  vacation  for  the 
purpose  of  visiting  his  sister,  so  in  two  days  after 
the  signing  of  the  check  he  walked  up  the  straight 
garden  path  that  led  to  Renwick's  home. 

It  was  a  little  painted  frame  house,  back  from  the 
street,  fronted  by  a  precise  bit  of  lawn,  with  a  wil- 
low bush  at  one  corner.  A  white  picket  fence  ef- 
fectually separated  it  from  a  broad,  shaded,  not 
unpleasing  street.  An  osage  hedge  and  a  board 
fence  respectively  bounded  the  side  and  back. 

Under  the  low  porch  Thorpe  rang  the  bell  at  a 
door  flanked  by  two  long,  narrow  strips  of  imitation 
stained  glass.  He  entered  then  a  little  dark  hall 
from  which  the  stairs  rose  almost  directly  at  the 
door,  containing  with  difficulty  a  hat-rack  and  a 
table  on  which  rested  a  card  tray  with  cards.  In 
the  course  of  greeting  an  elderly  woman,  he  stepped 
into  the  parlor.  This  was  a  small  square  apartment 
carpeted  in  dark  Brussels,  and  stuffily  glorified  in 
the  bourgeois  manner  by  a  white  marble  mantel* 

134 


THE  FOREST 

piece,  several  pieces  of  mahogany  furniture  uphol- 
stered in  haircloth,  a  table  on  which  reposed  a 
number  of  gift  books  in  celluloid  and  other  fancy 
bindings,  an  old-fashioned  piano  with  a  doily  and  a 
bit  of  china  statuary,  a  cabinet  or  so  containing  such 
things  as  ore  specimens,  dried  seaweed  and  coins,  and 
a  spindle-legged  table  or  two  upholding  glass  cases 
garnished  with  stuffed  birds  and  wax  flowers.  The 
ceiling  was  so  low  that  the  heavy  window  hangings 
depended  almost  from  the  angle  of  it  and  the  walls. 

Thorpe,  by  some  strange  freak  of  psychology,  sud- 
denly recalled  a  wild,  windy  day  in  the  forest.  He 
had  stood  on  the  top  of  a  height.  He  saw  again  the 
sharp  puffs  of  snow,  exactly  like  the  smoke  from 
.bursting  shells,  where  a  fierce  swoop  of  the  storm 
'  struck  the  laden  tops  of  pines ;  the  dense  swirl,  again 
exactly  like  smoke  but  now  of  a  great  fire,  that 
marked  the  lakes.  The  picture  superimposed  itself 
silently  over  this  stuffy  bourgeois  respectability,  like 
the  shadow  of  a  dream.  He  heard  plainly  enough 
the  commonplace  drawl  of  the  woman  before  him 
offering  him  the  platitudes  of  her  kind. 

"  You  are  lookin'  real  well,  Mr.  Thorpe,"  she  was 
saying,  "  an'  I  just  know  Helen  will  be  glad  to  see 
you.  She  had  a  hull  afternoon  out  to-day  and  won't 
be  back  to  tea.  Dew  set  and  tell  me  about  what 
you've  been  a-doin'  and  how  you're  a-gettin'  along." 

"  No,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Renwick,"  he  replied,  "  I'll 
come  back  later.     How  is  Helen?  " 

135 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  She's  purty  well;  and  sech  a  nice  girl.  I  think 
she's  getting  right  handsome." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  she  went1?  " 

But  Mrs.  Renwick  did  not  know.  So  Thorpe 
wandered  about  the  maple-shaded  streets  of  the 
little  town. 

For  the  purposes  he  had  in  view  five  hundred  dol- 
lars would  be  none  too  much.  The  remaining  five 
hundred  he  had  resolved  to  invest  in  his  sister's  com- 
fort and  happiness.  He  had  thought  the  matter 
over  and  come  to  his  decision  in  that  secretive,  cart- 
ful fashion  so  typical  of  him,  working  over  every 
logical  step  of  his  induction  so  thoroughly  that  it 
ended  by  becoming  part  of  his  mental  fibre.  So 
when  he  reached  the  conclusion  it  had  already  be- 
come to  him  an  axiom.  In  presenting  it  as  such  to 
his  sister,  he  never  realized  that  she  had  not  fol- 
lowed with  him  the  logical  steps,  and  so  could 
hardly  be  expected  to  accept  the  conclusion  out-of- 
hand. 

Thorpe  wished  to  give  his  sister  the  best  education 
possible  in  the  circumstances.  She  was  now  nearly 
eighteen  years  old.  He  knew  likewise  that  he  would 
probably  experience  a  great  deal  of  difficulty  in  find^ 
ing  another  family  which  would  afford  the  young 
girl  quite  the  same  equality  coupled  with  so  few 
disadvantages.  Admitted  that  its  level  of  intellect 
and  taste  was  not  high,  Mrs.  Renwick  was  on  the 
whole  a  good  influence.    Helen  had  not  in  the  least 

136 


THE  FOREST 

the  position  of  servant,  but  of  a  daughter.  She 
helped  around  the  house;  and  in  return  she  was  fed, 
lodged  and  clothed  for  nothing. 

So  though  the  money  might  have  enabled  Helen 
to  live  independently  in  a  modest  way  for  a  year  or 
so,  Thorpe  preferred  that  she  remain  where  she  was. 
His  game  was  too  much  a  game  of  chance.  He 
might  find  himself  at  the  end  of  the  year  without 
further  means.  Above  all  things  he  wished  to  as- 
sure Helen's  material  safety  until  such  time  as  he 
should  be  quite  certain  of  himself. 

In  pursuance  of  this  idea  he  had  gradually  evolved 
vhat  seemed  to  him  an  excellent  plan.  He  had  al- 
ready perfected  it  by  correspondence  with  Mrs. 
Renwick.  It  was,  briefly,  this:  he,  Thorpe,  would 
at  once  hire  a  servant  girl,  who  would  make  any- 
thing but  supervision  unnecessary  in  so  small  a 
household.  The  remainder  of  the  money  he  had 
already  paid  for  a  year's  tuition  in  the  Seminary  of 
the  town.  Thus  Helen  gained  her  leisure  and  an 
opportunity  for  study;  and  still  retained  her  home 
in  case  of  reverse. 

Thorpe  found  his  sister  already  a  young  lady. 
After  the  first  delight  of  meeting  had  passed,  they 
sat  side  by  side  on  the  haircloth  sofa  and  took  stock 
of  each  other. 

Helen  had  developed  from  the  school  child  to  the 
woman.  She  was  a  handsome  girl,  possessed  of  a 
slender,  well-rounded  form,  deep  hazel  eyes  with  the 

137 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

level  gaze  of  her  brother,  a  clean-cut  patrician  face, 
and  a  thoroughbred  neatness  of  carriage  that  adver- 
tised her  good  blood.  Altogether  a  figure  rather 
aloof,  a  face  rather  impassive;  but  with  the  possi- 
bility of  passion  and  emotion,  and  a  will  to  back 
them. 

"  Oh,  but  you're  tanned  and — and  big !  "  she 
cried,  kissing  her  brother.  "  You've  had  such  a 
strange  winter,  haven't  you1?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  absently. 

Another  man  would  have  struck  her  young  imag- 
ination with  the  wild,  free  thrill  of  the  wilderness. 
Thus  he  would  have  gained  her  sympathy  and  un- 
derstanding.    Thorpe  was  too  much  in  earnest. 

"  Things  came  a  little  better  than  I  thought  they 
were  going  to,  toward  the  last,"  said  he,  "  and  I 
made  a  little  money." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad !  "  she  cried.    "  Was  it  much  ?  " 

"  No,  not  much,"  he  answered.  The  actual  fig- 
ures would  have  been  so  much  better !  "I've  made 
arrangements  with  Mrs.  Renwick  to  hire  a  servant 
girl,  so  you  will  have  all  your  time  free ;  and  I  have 
paid  a  year's  tuition  for  you  in  the  Seminary." 

"  Oh !  "  said  the  girl,  and  fell  silent. 

After  a  time,  "  Thank  you  very  much,  Harry 
dear."  Then  after  another  interval,  "  I  think  I'll 
go  get  ready  for  supper." 

Instead  of  getting  ready  for  supper,  she  paced 
excitedly  up  and  down  her  room. 

138 


THE  FOREST 

"Oh,  why  didn't  he  say  what  he  was  about? " 
she  cried  to  herself.  "  Why  didn't  he !  Why  didn't 
he!" 

Next  morning  she  opened  the  subject  again. 

"  Harry,  dear,"  said  she,  "  I  have  a  little  scheme, 
and  I  want  to  see  if  it  is  not  feasible.  How  much 
will  the  girl  and  the  Seminary  cost?  " 

"  About  four  hundred  dollars." 

"  Well  now,  see,  dear.  With  four  hundred  dol- 
lars I  can  live  for  a  year  very  nicely  by  boarding 
with  some  girls  I  know  who  live  in  a  sort  of  a  club; 
and  I  could  learn  much  more  by  going  to  the  High 
School  and  continuing  with  some  other  classes  I  am 
interested  in  now.  Why  see,  Harry !  "  she  cried, 
all  interest.  "  We  have  Professor  Carghill  come 
twice  a  week  to  teach  us  English,  and  Professor 
Johns,  who  teaches  us  history,  and  we  hope  to  get 
one  or  two  more  this  winter.  If  I  go  to  the  Sem- 
inary, I'll  have  to  miss  all  that.  And  Harry,  really 
I  don't  want  to  go  to  the  Seminary.  I  don't  think  I 
should  like  it.     I  know  I  shouldn't." 

"  But  why  not  live  here,  Helen?  "  he  asked. 

"  Because  I'm  tired  of  it!  "  she  cried;  "  sick  to  the 
soul  of  the  stuffiness,  and  the  glass  cases,  and  the — 
the  goodness  of  it !  " 

Thorpe  remembered  his  vision  of  the  wild,  wind- 
tossed  pines,  and  sighed.  He  wanted  very,  very 
much  to  act  in  accordance  with  his  sister's  desires, 
although  he  winced  under  the  sharp  hurt  pang  of 

139 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

the  sensitive  man  whose  intended  kindness  is  not 
appreciated.  The  impossibility  of  complying,  how- 
ever, reacted  to  shut  his  real  ideas  and  emotions  the 
more  inscrutably  within  him. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  would  not  find  the  girls'  boa/d- 
ing-club scheme  a  good  one,  Helen,"  said  he. 
"  You'd  find  it  would  work  better  in  theory  than  in 
practice." 

"  But  it  has  worked  with  the  other  girls !  "  she 
cried. 

"  I  think  you  would  be  better  off  here." 

Helen  bravely  choked  back  her  disappointment. 

"  I  might  live  here,  but  let  the  Seminary  drop, , 
anyway.    That  would  save  a  good  deal,"  she  begged. 
"I'd  get  quite  as  much  good  out  of  my  work  outside, 
and  then  we'd  have  all  that  money  besides." 

"  I  don't  know;  I'll  see,"  replied  Thorpe.  "  The 
mental  discipline  of  class-room  work  might  be  a 
good  thing." 

He  had  already  thought  of  this  modification  him- 
self, but  with  his  characteristic  caution,  threw  cold 
water  on  the  scheme  until  he  could  ascertain  defi- 
nitely whether  or  not  it  was  practicable.  He  had 
already  paid  the  tuition  for  the  year,  and  was  in 
doubt  as  to  its  repayment.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
negotiation  took  about  two  weeks. 

During  that  time  Helen  Thorpe  went  through  her 
disappointment  and  emerged  on  the  other  side.  Her 
nature  was  at  once  strong  and  adaptable.     One  by 

140 


THE  FOREST 

one  she  grappled  with  the  different  aspects  of  the 
case,  and  turned  them  the  other  way.  By  a  tour  de 
force  she  actually  persuaded  herself  that  her  own 
plan  was  not  really  attractive  to  her.  But  what 
heart-breaks  and  tears  this  cost  her,  only  those  who 
in  their  youth  have  encountered  such  absolute  nega- 
tions of  cherished  ideas  can  guess. 

Then  Thorpe  told  her. 

"  I've  fixed  it,  Helen,"  said  he.  "  You  can  attend 
the  High  School  and  the  classes,  if  you  please.  I 
have  put  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  out  at 
interest  for  you." 

"  Oh,  Harry !  "  she  cried  reproachfully.  "  Why 
didn't  you  tell  me  before !  " 

He  did  not  understand ;  but  the  pleasure  of  it  had 
all  faded.  She  no  longer  felt  enthusiasm,  nor  grati- 
tude, nor  anything  except  a  dull  feeling  that  she  had 
been  unnecessarily  discouraged.  And  on  his  side, 
Thorpe  was  vaguely  wounded. 

The  days,  however,  passed  in  the  main  pleasur- 
ably  for  them  both.  They  were  fond  of  one  another. 
The  barrier  slowly  rising  between  them  was  not  yet 
cemented  by  lack  of  affection  on  either  side,  but 
rather  by  lack  of  belief  in  the  other's  affection. 
Helen  imagined  Thorpe's  interest  in  her  becoming 
daily  more  perfunctory.  Thorpe  fancied  his  sister 
cold,  unreasoning,  and  ungrateful.  As  yet  this  was 
but  the  vague  dust  of  a  cloud.  They  could  not  for- 
get that,  but  for  each  other,  they  were  alone  in  the 

141 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

world.  Thorpe  delayed  his  departure  from  day  to 
day,  making  all  the  preparations  he  possibly  could 
at  home. 

Finally  Helen  came  on  him  busily  unpacking  a 
box  which  a  dray  had  left  at  the  door.  He  un- 
wound and  laid  one  side  a  Winchester  rifle,  a  variety 
of  Ashing  tackle,  and  some  other  miscellanies  of  the 
woodsman.  Helen  was  struck  by  the  beauty  of  the 
sporting  implements. 

"  Oh,  Harry !  "  she  cried,  "  aren't  they  fine ! 
What  are  you  going  to  do  with  them?  " 

"  Going  camping,"  replied  Thorpe,  his  head  in 
the  excelsior. 

"When?" 

"  This  summer." 

Helen's  eyes  lit  up  with  a  fire  of  delight.  "  How 
nice !    May  I  go  with  you?  "  she  cried. 

Thorpe  shook  his  head. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,  little  girl.  It's  going  to  be  a 
hard  trip  a  long  ways  from  anywhere.  You  couldn't 
stand  it." 

"  I'm  sure  I  could.    Try  me." 

"  No,"  replied  Thorpe.  "  I  know  you  couldn't. 
We'll  be  sleeping  on  the  ground  and  going  on  foot 
through  much  extremely  difficult  country." 

"  I  wish  you'd  take  me  somewhere,"  pursued 
Helen.  "  I  can't  get  away  this  summer  unless  you 
do.  Why  don't  you  camp  somewhere  nearer  home, 
so  I  can  go?" 

143 


THE  FOREST 

Thorpe  arose  and  kissed  her  tenderly.  He  was 
extremely  sorry  that  he  could  not  spend  the  summer 
with  his  sister,  but  he  believed  likewise  that  their 
future  depended  to  a  great  extent  on  this  very  trip. 
But  he  did  not  say  so. 

"I  can't,  little  girl;  that's  all.  We've  got  our 
way  to  make." 

She  understood  that  he  considered  the  trip  too  ex- 
pensive for  them  both.  At  this  moment  a  paper 
fluttered  from  the  excelsior.  She  picked  it  up.  A 
glance  showed  her  a  total  of  figures  that  made  her 
gasp. 

"  Here  is  your  bill,"  she  said  with  a  strange  choke 
in  her  voice,  and  left  the  room. 

"  He  can  spend  sixty  dollars  on  his  old  guns ;  but 
he  can't  afford  to  let  me  leave  this  hateful  house," 
she  complained  to  the  apple  tree.  "  He  can  go  'way 
off  camping  somewhere  to  have  a  good  time,  but  he 
leaves  me  sweltering  in  this  miserable  little  town  all 
summer.  I  don't  care  if  he  is  supporting  me.  He 
ought  to.  He's  my  brother.  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  a 
man;  I  wish  I  were  dead!  " 

Three  days  later  Thorpe  left  for  the  north.  He 
was  reluctant  to  go.  When  the  time  came,  he  at- 
tempted to  kiss  Helen  good-by.  She  caught  sight  of 
the  rifle  in  its  new  leather  and  canvas  case,  and  on 
a  sudden  impulse  which  she  could  not  explain  to  her- 
self, she  turned  away  her  face  and  ran  into  the 
house.     Thorpe,  vaguely  hurt,  a  little  resentful,  as 

143 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

the  genuinely  misunderstood  are  apt  to  be,  hesitated 
a  moment,  then  trudged  down  the  street.  Helen  too 
paused  at  the  door,  choking  back  her  grief. 

"Harry!  Harry!"  she  cried  wildly;  but  it  was 
too  late. 

Both  felt  themselves  to  be  in  the  right.  Each 
realized  this  fact  in  the  other.  Each  recognized  the 
impossibility  of  imposing  his  own  point  of  view  over 
the  other's. 


144 


PART  II 

THE  IANDLOOKER 


CHAPTER    SIXTEEN 

IN  every  direction  the  woods.  Not  an  opening  of 
any  kind  offered  the  mind  a  breathing  place  un- 
der the  free  sky.  Sometimes  the  pine  groves — vast, 
solemn,  grand,  with  the  patrician  aloofness  of  the 
truly  great;  sometimes  the  hardwood — bright,  mys- 
terious, full  of  life;  sometimes  the  swamps — dark, 
dank,  speaking  with  the  voices  of  the  shyer  creat- 
ures; sometimes  the  spruce  and  balsam  thickets — 
aromatic,  enticing.    But  never  the  clear,  open  sky. 

And  always  the  woods  creatures,  in  startling 
abundance  and  tameness.  The  solitary  man  with 
the  pack-straps  across  his  forehead  and  shoulders  had 
never  seen  so  many  of  them.  They  withdrew  si- 
lently before  him  as  he  advanced.  They  accom- 
panied him  on  either  side,  watching  him  with  intelli- 
gent, bright  eyes.  They  followed  him  stealthily  for 
a  little  distance,  as  though  escorting  him  out  of  their 
own  particular  territory.  Dozens  of  times  a  day 
the  traveller  glimpsed  the  flaunting  white  flags  of 
deer.  Often  the  creatures  would  take  but  a  few 
hasty  jumps,  and  then  would  wheel,  the  beautiful 
embodiments  of  the  picture  deer,  to  snort  and  paw 
the  leaves.    Hundreds  of  birds,  of  which  he  did  not 

147 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Know  the  name,  stooped  to  his  inspection,  whirred 
away  at  his  approach,  or  went  about  their  business 
with  hardy  indifference  under  his  very  eyes.  Blase 
porcupines  trundled  superbly  from  his  path.  Once 
a  mother-partridge  simulated  a  broken  wing,  flut- 
tering painfully.  Early  one  morning  the  traveller 
ran  plump  on  a  fat  lolling  bear,  taking  his  ease  from 
the  new  sun,  and  his  meal  from  a  panic-stricken 
army  of  ants.  As  beseemed  two  innocent  wayfarers 
they  honored  each  other  with  a  salute  of  surprise, 
and  went  their  way.  And  all  about  and  through, 
weaving,  watching,  moving  like  spirits,  were  the 
forest  multitudes  which  the  young  man  never  saw, 
but  which  he  divined,  and  of  whose  movements  he 
sometimes  caught  for  a  single  instant  the  faintest 
patter  or  rustle.  It  constituted  the  mystery  of  the 
forest,  that  great  fascinating,  lovable  mystery  which, 
once  it  steals  into  the  heart  of  a  man,  has  always  a 
hearing  and  a  longing  when  it  makes  its  voice  heard. 
The  young  man's  equipment  was  simple  in  the  ex- 
treme. Attached  to  a  heavy  leather  belt  of  cartridges 
hung  a  two-pound  axe  and  a  sheath  knife.  In  his 
pocket  reposed  a  compass,  an  air  -  tight  tin  of 
matches,  and  a  map  drawn  on  oiled  paper  of  a  dis- 
trict divided  into  sections.  Some  few  of  the  sections 
were  colored,  which  indicated  that  they  belonged  to 
private  parties.  All  the  rest  was  State  or  Govern- 
ment land.  He  carried  in  his  hand  a  repeating  rifle. 
The  pack,  if  opened,  would  have  been  found  to  con* 

148 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

tain  a  woolen  and  a  rubber  blanket,  fishing  tackle, 
twenty  pounds  or  so  of  flour,  a  package  of  tea,  sugar, 
a  slab  of  bacon  carefully  wrapped  in  oiled  cloth, 
salt,  a  suit  of  underwear,  and  several  extra  pairs  of 
thick  stockings.  To  the  outside  of  the  pack  had  been 
strapped  a  frying  pan,  a  tin  pail,  and  a  cup. 

For  more  than  a  week  Thorpe  had  journeyed 
through  the  forest  without  meeting  a  human  being, 
or  seeing  any  indications  of  man,  excepting  always 
the  old  blaze  of  the  government  survey.  Many 
years  before,  officials  had  run  careless  lines  through 
the  country  along  the  section-boundaries.  At  this 
time  the  blazes  were  so  weather-beaten  that  Thorpe 
often  found  difficulty  in  deciphering  the  indications 
marked  on  them.  These  latter  stated  always  the 
section,  the  township,  and  the  range  east  or  west  by 
number.  All  Thorpe  had  to  do  was  to  find  the  same 
figures  on  his  map.  He  knew  just  where  he  was. 
By  means  of  his  compass  he  could  lay  his  course  to 
any  point  that  suited  his  convenience. 

The  map  he  had  procured  at  the  United  States 
Land  Office  in  Detroit.  He  had  set  out  with  the 
scanty  equipment  just  described  for  the  purpose  of 
"  looking  "  a  suitable  bunch  of  pine  in  the  northern 
peninsula,  which,  at  that  time,  was  practically  un- 
touched. Access  to  its  interior  could  be  obtained 
only  on  foot  or  by  river.  The  South  Shore  Railroad 
was  already  engaged  in  pushing  a  way  through  the 
virgin  forest  but  it  had  as  yet  penetrated  only  as  far 

149 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

as  Seney;  and  after  all,  had  been  projected  more 
with  the  idea  of  establishing  a  direct  route  to  Duluth 
and  the  copper  districts  than  to  aid  the  lumber  in- 
dustry. Marquette,  Menominee,  and  a  few  smaller 
places  along  the  coast  were  lumbering  near  at  home ; 
but  they  shipped  entirely  by  water.  Although  the 
rest  of  the  peninsula  also  was  finely  wooded,  a  gen- 
eral impression  obtained  among  the  craft  that  it 
would  prove  too  inaccessible  for  successful  opera- 
tion. 

Furthermore,  at  that  period,  a  great  deal  of  talk 
was  believed  as  to  the  inexhaustibility  of  Michigan 
pine.  Men  in  a  position  to  know  what  they  were 
talking  about  stated  dogmatically  that  the  forests  of 
the  southern  peninsula  would  be  adequate  for  a  great 
many  years  to  come.  Furthermore,  the  magnificent 
timber  of  the  Saginaw,  Muskegon,  and  Grand  River 
valleys  in  the  southern  peninsula  occupied  entire  at- 
tention. No  one  cared  to  bother  about  property  at 
so  great  a  distance  from  home.  As  a  consequence, 
few  as  yet  knew  even  the  extent  of  the  resources  so 
far  north. 

Thorpe,  however,  with  the  far-sightedness  of  the 
born  pioneer,  had  perceived  that  the  exploitation  of 
the  upper  country  was  an  affair  of  a  few  years  only. 
The  forests  of  southern  Michigan  were  vast,  but  not 
limitless;  and  they  had  all  passed  into  private  own- 
ership. The  north,  on  the  other  hand,  would  not 
prove  as  inaccessible  as  it  now  seemed,  for  the  carry 

150 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

ing  trade  would  some  day  realize  that  the  entire 
waterway  of  the  Great  Lakes  offered  an  unrivalled 
outlet.  With  that  elementary  discovery  would  be- 
gin a  rush  to  the  new  country.  Tiring  of  a  profitless 
employment  farther  south  he  resolved  to  anticipate 
it,  and  by  acquiring  his  holdings  before  general  at- 
tention should  be  turned  that  way,  to  obtain  of  the 
best. 

He  was  without  money,  and  practically  without 
friends;  while  Government  and  State  lands  cost  re- 
spectively two  dollars  and  a  half  and  a  dollar  and  a 
quarter  an  acre,  cash  down.  But  he  relied  on  the 
good  sense  of  capitalists  to  perceive,  from  the  statis- 
tics which  his  explorations  would  furnish,  the  won- 
derful advantage  of  logging  a  new  country  with  the 
chain  of  Great  Lakes  as  shipping  outlet  at  its  very 
door.  In  return  for  his  information,  he  would  ex- 
pect a  half  interest  in  the  enterprise.  This  is  the 
usual  method  of  procedure  adopted  by  landlookers 
everywhere. 

We  have  said  that  the  country  was  quite  new  to 
logging,  but  the  statement  is  not  strictly  accurate. 
Thorpe  was  by  no  means  the  first  to  see  the  money 
in  northern  pine.  Outside  the  big  mill  districts 
already  named,  cuttings  of  considerable  size  were 
already  under  way,  the  logs  from  which  were  usu- 
ally sold  to  the  mills  of  Marquette  or  Menominee. 
Here  and  there  along  the  best  streams,  men  had 
already  begun  operations. 

151 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

But  they  worked  on  a  small  scale  and  with  an  eye 
to  the  immediate  present  only;  bending  their  efforts 
to  as  large  a  cut  as  possible  each  season  rather  than 
to  the  acquisition  of  holdings  for  future  operations. 
This  they  accomplished  naively  by  purchasing  one 
forty  and  cutting  a  dozen.  Thorpe's  map  showed 
often  near  the  forks  of  an  important  stream  a  section 
whose  coloring  indicated  private  possession.  Legally 
the  owners  had  the  right  only  to  the  pine  included  in 
the  marked  sections;  but  if  any  one  had  taken  the 
trouble  to  visit  the  district,  he  would  have  found 
operations  going  on  for  miles  up  and  down  stream. 
The  colored  squares  would  prove  to  be  nothing  but 
so  many  excuses  for  being  on  the  ground.  The  bulk 
of  the  pine  of  any  season's  cut  he  would  discover 
had  been  stolen  from  unbought  State  or  Government 
land. 

This  in  the  old  days  was  a  common  enough  trick. 
One  man,  at  present  a  wealthy  and  respected  citizen, 
cut  for  six  years,  and  owned  just  one  forty-acres! 
Another  logged  nearly  fifty  million  feet  from  an 
eighty !  In  the  State  to-day  live  prominent  business 
men,  looked  upon  as  models  in  every  way,  good  fel- 
lows, good  citizens,  with  sons  and  daughters  proud 
of  their  social  position,  who,  nevertheless,  made  the 
bulk  of  their  fortunes  by  stealing  Government  pine. 

"  What  you  want  to-day,  old  man?  "  inquired  a 
wholesale  lumber  dealer  of  an  individual  whos** 
name  now  stands  for  domestic  and  civic  virtue. 

152 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

"  I'll  have  five  or  six  million  saw  logs  to  sell  you 
m  the  spring,  and  I  want  to  know  what  you'll  give 
for  them." 

"  Go  on !  "  expostulated  the  dealer  with  a  laugh, 
"  ain't  you  got  that  forty  all  cut  yet?  " 

"  She  holds  out  pretty  well,"  replied  the  other 
with  a  grin. 

An  official,  called  the  Inspector,  is  supposed  to 
report  such  stealings,  after  which  another  official  is 
to  prosecute.  Aside  from  the  fact  that  the  danger 
of  discovery  is  practically  zero  in  so  wild  and  dis- 
tant a  country,  it  is  fairly  well  established  that  the 
old-time  logger  found  these  two  individuals  sus- 
ceptible to  the  gentle  art  of  "  sugaring."  The  offi- 
cials, as  well  as  the  lumberman,  became  rich.  If 
worst  came  to  worst,  and  investigation  seemed  im- 
minent, the  operator  could  still  purchase  the  land  at 
legal  rates,  and  so  escape  trouble.  But  the  intention 
to  appropriate  was  there,  and,  to  confess  the  truth, 
the  whitewashing  by  purchase  needed  but  rarely  to 
be  employed.  I  have  time  and  again  heard  landlook- 
ers  assert  that  the  old  Land  Offices  were  rarely  "  on 
the  square,"  but  as  to  that  I  cannot,  of  course, 
venture  an  opinion. 

Thorpe  was  perfectly  conversant  with  this  state  of 
affairs.  He  knew,  also,  that  in  all  probability  many 
of  the  colored  districts  on  his  map  represented  firms 
engaged  in  steals  of  greater  or  less  magnitude.  He 
was  further  aware  that  most  of  the  concerns  stole 

153 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

the  timber  because  it  was  cheaper  to  steal  than  to 
buy;  but  that  they  would  buy  readily  enough  if 
forced  to  do  so  in  order  to  prevent  its  acquisition  by 
another.  This  other  might  be  himself.  In  his  ex- 
ploration, therefore,  he  decided  to  employ  the  ut- 
most circumspection.  As  much  as  possible  he  pur- 
posed to  avoid  other  men;  but  if  meetings  became 
inevitable,  he  hoped  to  mask  his  real  intentions. 
He  would  pose  as  a  hunter  and  fisherman. 

During  the  course  of  his  week  in  the  woods,  he 
discovered  that  he  would  be  forced  eventually  to 
resort  to  this  expedient.  He  encountered  quantities 
of  fine  timber  in  the  country  through  which  he  trav- 
elled, and  some  day  it  would  be  logged,  but  at 
present  the  difficulties  were  too  great  The  streams 
were  shallow,  or  they  did  not  empty  into  a  good 
shipping  port.  Investors  would  naturally  look  first 
for  holdings  along  the  more  practicable  routes. 

A  cursory  glance  sufficed  to  show  that  on  such 
waters  the  little  red  squares  had  already  blocked  a 
foothold  for  other  owners.  Thorpe  surmised  that 
he  would  undoubtedly  discover  fine  unbought  timber 
along  their  banks,  but  that  the  men  already  engaged 
in  stealing  it  would  hardly  be  likely  to  allow  him 
peaceful  acquisition. 

For  a  week,  then,  he  journeyed  through  magnifi- 
cent timber  without  finding  what  he  sought,  work- 
ing always  more  and  more  to  the  north,  until  finally 
he  stood  on  the  shores  of  Superior.    Up  to  now  the 

154 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

streams  had  not  suited  him.  He  resolved  to  follow 
the  shore  west  to  the  mouth  of  a  fairly  large  river 
called  the  Ossawinamakee.*  It  showed,  in  common 
with  most  streams  of  its  size,  land  already  taken, 
but  Thorpe  hoped  to  find  good  timber  nearer  the 
mouth.  After  several  days'  hard  walking  with  this 
object  in  view,  he  found  himself  directly  north  of  a 
bend  in  the  river;  so,  without  troubling  to  hunt  for 
its  outlet  into  Superior,  he  turned  through  the  woods 
due  south,  with  the  intention  of  striking  in  on  the 
stream.  This  he  succeeded  in  accomplishing  some 
twenty  miles  inland,  where  also  he  discovered  a 
well-defined  and  recently  used  trail  leading  up  the 
river.  Thorpe  camped  one  night  at  the  bend,  and 
then  set  out  to  follow  the  trail. 

It  led  him  for  upward  of  ten  miles  nearly  due 
south,  sometimes  approaching,  sometimes  leaving 
the  river,  but  keeping  always  in  its  direction.  The 
country  in  general  was  rolling.  Low  parallel  ridges 
of  gentle  declivity  glided  constantly  across  his  way, 
their  valleys  sloping  to  the  river.  Thorpe  had  never 
seen  a  grander  forest  of  pine  than  that  which  clothed 
them. 

For  almost  three  miles,  after  the  young  man  had 
passed  through  a  preliminary  jungle  of  birch,  cedar, 
spruce,  and  hemlock,  it  ran  without  a  break,  clear, 
clean,  of  cloud-sweeping  altitude,  without  under- 
brush-    Most  of  it  was  good  bull-sap,   which  is 

*  Accent  the  last  syllable. 
155 


THE  BLAZED   lAAlL 

known  by  the  fineness  of  the  bark,  though  often  in 
the  hollows  it  shaded  gradually  into  the  rough- 
skinned  cork  pine.  In  those  days  few  people  paid 
any  attention  to  the  Norway,  and  hemlock  was  not 
even  thought  of.  With  every  foot  of  the  way 
Thorpe  became  more  and  more  impressed. 

At  first  the  grandeur,  the  remoteness,  the  so- 
lemnity of  the  virgin  forest  fell  on  his  spirit  with  a 
kind  of  awe.  The  tall,  straight  trunks  lifted  di- 
rectly upward  to  the  vaulted  screen  through  which 
the  sky  seemed  as  remote  as  the  ceiling  of  a  Roman 
church.  Ravens  wheeled  and  croaked  in  the  blue, 
but  infinitely  far  away.  Some  lesser  noises  wove 
into  the  stillness  without  breaking  the  web  of  its 
splendor,  for  the  pine  silence  laid  soft,  hushing 
fingers  on  the  lips  of  those  who  might  waken  the 
sleeping  sunlight, 

Then  the  spirit  of  the  pioneer  stirred  within  his 
soul.  The  wilderness  sent  forth  its  old-time  chal- 
lenge to  the  hardy.  In  him  awoke  that  instinct 
which,  without  itself  perceiving  the  end  on  which 
it  is  bent,  clears  the  way  for  the  civilization  that  has 
been  ripening  in  old-world  hot-houses  during  a  thou- 
sand years.  Men  must  eat;  and  so  the  soil  must  be 
made  productive.  We  regret,  each  after  his  man- 
ner, the  passing  of  the  Indian,  the  buffalo,  the  great 
pine  forests,  for  they  are  of  the  picturesque ;  but  we 
live  gladly  on  the  product  of  the  farms  that  have 
taken  their  places.     Southern  Michigan  was  once  a 

156 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

pine  forest:  now  the  twisted  stump-fences  about  the 
most  fertile  farms  of  the  north  alone  break  the  ex- 
panse of  prairie  and  of  trim  "  wood-lots." 

Thorpe  knew  little  of  this,  and  cared  less.  These 
feathered  trees,  standing  close-ranked  and  yet  each 
isolate  in  the  dignity  and  gravity  of  a  sphinx  of 
stone,  set  to  dancing  his  blood  of  the  frontiersman. 
He  spread  out  his  map  to  make  sure  that  so  valuable 
a  clump  of  timber  remained  still  unclaimed.  A  few 
sections  lying  near  the  headwaters  were  all  he  found 
marked  as  sold.  He  resumed  his  tramp  light-heart- 
edly. 

At  the  ten-mile  point  he  came  upon  a  dam.  It 
was  a  crude  dam — built  of  logs — whose  face  con- 
sisted of  strong  buttresses  slanted  up-stream,  and 
whose  sheer  was  made  of  unbarked  timbers  laid 
smoothly  side  by  side  at  the  required  angle.  At 
present  its  gate  was  open.  Thorpe  could  see  that  it 
was  an  unusually  large  gate,  with  a  powerful  ap- 
paratus for  the  raising  and  the  lowering  of  it. 

The  purpose  of  the  dam  in  this  new  country  did 
not  puzzle  him  in  the  least,  but  its  presence  bewil- 
dered him.  Such  constructions  are  often  thrown 
across  logging  streams  at  proper  intervals  in  order 
that  the  operator  may  be  independent  of  the  spring 
freshets.  When  he  wishes  to  "  drive  "  his  logs  to 
the  mouth  of  the  stream,  he  first  accumulates  a  head 
of  water  behind  his  dams,  and  then,  by  lifting  the 
gates,  creates  an  artificial  freshet  sufficient  to  float 

157 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

his  timber  to  the  pool  formed  by  the  next  dam 
below.  The  device  is  common  enough;  but  it  is  ex- 
pensive. People  do  not  build  dams  except  in  the 
certainty  of  some  years  of  logging,  and  quite  ex- 
tensive logging  at  that.  If  the  stream  happens  to 
be  navigable,  the  promoter  must  first  get  an  Im- 
provement Charter  from  a  board  of  control  ap- 
pointed by  the  State.  So  Thorpe  knew  that  he  had 
to  deal,  not  with  a  hand-to-mouth-timber-thief,  but 
with  a  great  company  preparing  to  log  the  country 
on  a  big  scale. 

He  continued  his  journey.  At  noon  he  came  to 
another  and  similar  structure.  The  pine  forest  had 
yielded  to  knolls  of  hardwood  separated  by  swamp- 
holes  of  blackthorn.  Here  he  left  his  pack  and 
pushed  ahead  in  light  marching  order.  About  eight 
miles  above  the  first  dam,  and  eighteen  from  the 
bend  of  the  river,  he  ran  into  a  "  slashing  "  of  the 
year  before.  The  decapitated  stumps  were  already 
beginning  to  turn  brown  with  weather,  the  tangle  of 
tops  and  limbs  was  partially  concealed  by  poplar 
growths  and  wild  raspberry  vines.  Parenthetically, 
it  may  be  remarked  that  the  promptitude  with  which 
these  growths  succeed  the  cutting  of  the  pine  is  an 
inexplicable  marvel.  Clear  forty  acres  at  random  in 
the  very  centre  of  a  pine  forest,  without  a  tract  of 
poplar  within  an  hundred  miles;  the  next  season  will 
bring  up  the  fresh  shoots.  Some  claim  that  blue- 
jays  bring  the  seeds  in  their  crops.     Others  incline 

158 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

to  the  theory  that  the  creative  elements  lie  dormant 
in  the  soil,  needing  only  the  sun  to  start  them  to 
life.  Final  speculation  is  impossible,  but  the  fact 
stands. 

To  Thorpe  this  particular  clearing  became  at  once 
of  the  greatest  interest.  He  scrambled  over  and 
through  the  ugly  debris  which  for  a  year  or  two 
after  logging  operations  cumbers  the  ground.  By  a 
rather  prolonged  search  he  found  what  he  sought — 
the  "  section  corners  "  of  the  tract,  on  which  the 
government  surveyor  had  long  ago  marked  the  "  de- 
scriptions." A  glance  at  the  map  confirmed  his 
suspicions.  The  slashing  lay  some  two  miles  north 
of  the  sections  designated  as  belonging  to  private 
parties.     It  was  Government  land. 

Thorpe  sat  down,  lit  a  pipe,  and  did  a  little 
thinking. 

As  an  axiom  it  may  be  premised  that  the  shorter 
the  distance  logs  have  to  be  transported,  the  less  it 
costs  to  get  them  in.  Now  Thorpe  had  that  very 
morning  passed  through  beautiful  timber  lying  much 
nearer  the  mouth  of  the  river  than  either  this,  or  the 
sections  farther  south.  Why  had  these  men  delib- 
erately ascended  the  stream?  Why  had  they  stolen 
timber  eighteen  miles  from  the  bend,  when  they 
could  equally  well  have  stolen  just  as  good  fourteen 
miles  nearer  the  terminus  of  their  drive? 

Thorpe  ruminated  for  some  time  without  hitting 
Upon  a  solution.    Then  suddenlv  he  remembered  the 

159 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

two  dams,  and  his  idea  that  the  men  in  charge  of  the 
river  must  be  wealthy  and  must  intend  operating  on 
a  large  scale.  He  thought  he  glimpsed  it.  After 
another  pipe,  he  felt  sure. 

The  Unknowns  were  indeed  going  in  on  a  large 
scale.  They  intended  eventually  to  log  the  whole  of 
the  Ossawinamakee  basin.  For  this  reason  they  had 
made  their  first  purchase,  planted  their  first  foot- 
hold, near  the  headwaters.  Furthermore,  located  as 
they  were  far  from  a  present  or  an  immediately 
future  civilization,  they  had  felt  safe  in  leaving  for 
the  moment  their  holdings  represented  by  the  three 
sections  already  described.  Some  day  they  would 
buy  all  the  standing  Government  pine  in  the  basin ; 
but  in  the  meantime  they  would  steal  all  they  could 
at  a  sufficient  distance  from  the  lake  to  minimize  the. 
danger  of  discovery.  They  had  not  dared  to  appro- 
priate the  three-mile  tract  Thorpe  had  passed 
through,  because  in  that  locality  the  theft  would 
probably  be  remarked,  so  they  intended  eventually 
to  buy  it.  Until  that  should  become  necessary,  how- 
ever, every  stick  cut  meant  so  much  less  to  purchase. 

"  They're  going  to  cut,  and  keep  on  cutting,  work- 
ing down  river  as  fast  as  they  can,"  argued  Thorpe. 
"  If  anything  happens  so  they  have  to,  they'll  buy  in 
the  pine  that  is  left ;  but  if  things  go  well  with  them, 
they'll  take  what  they  can  for  nothing.  They're  get- 
ting this  stuff  out  up-river  first,  because  they  can 
Steal  safer  while  the  country  is  still  unsettled;  and 

160 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

even  when  it  does  fill  up,  there  will  not  be  much 
likelihood  of  an  investigation  so  far  in-country — at 
least  until  after  they  ha^f  folded  their  tents'" 

It  seems  to  us  who  are  accustomed  to  tnc  accurate 
policing  of  our  twentieth  century,  almost  incredible 
that  such  wholesale  robberies  should  have  gone  on 
with  so  little  danger  of  detection.  Certainly  detec- 
tion was  a  matter  of  sufficient  simplicity.  Some  one 
happens  along,  like  Thorpe,  carrying  a  Government 
map  in  his  pocket.  He  runs  across  a  parcel  of  un- 
claimed  land  already  cut  over.  It  would  seem  easy 
to  lodge  a  complaint,  institute  a  prosecution  against 
the  men  known  to  have  put  in  the  timber.  But  it  is 
almost  never  done. 

Thorpe  knew  that  men  occupied  in  so  precarious 
a  business  would  be  keenly  on  the  watch.  At  the 
first  hint  of  rivalry,  they  would  buy  in  the  timber 
they  had  selected.  But  the  situation  had  set  his 
fighting  blood  to  racing.  The  very  fact  that  these 
men  were  thieves  on  so  big  a  scale  made  him  the 
more  obstinately  determined  to  thwart  them.  They 
undoubtedly  wanted  the  tract  down  river.  Well, 
so  did  he ! 

He  purposed  to  look  it  over  carefully,  to  ascertain 
its  exact  boundaries  and  what  sections  it  would  be 
necebsary  to  buy  in  order  to  include  it,  and  perhaps 
even  to  estimate  it  in  a  rough  way.  In  the  accom- 
plishment of  this  he  would  have  to  spend  the  sum- 
mer, and  perhaps  part  of  the  fall,  in  that  district. 

161 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

He  could  hardly  expect  to  escape  notice.  By  the 
indications  on  the  river,  he  judged  that  a  crew  of 
men  had  shortly  before  taken  out  a  drive  of  logs- 
After  the  timber  had  been  rafted  and  towed  to 
Marquette,  they  would  return.  He  might  be  able 
to  hide  in  the  forest,  but  sooner  or  later,  he  was  sure, 
one  of  the  company's  landlookers  or  hunters  would 
stumble  on  his  camp.  Then  his  very  concealment 
would  tell  them  what  he  was  after.  The  risk  was 
too  great.  For  above  all  things  Thorpe  needed  time. 
He  had,  as  has  been  said,  to  ascertain  what  he  could 
offer.  Then  he  had  to  offer  it.  He  would  be  forced 
to  interest  capital,  and  that  is  a  matter  of  persuasior 
and  leisure. 

Finally  his  shrewd,  intuitive  good-sense  flashed 
the  solution  on  him.  He  returned  rapidly  to  his 
pack,  assumed  the  straps,  and  arrived  at  the  first 
dam  about  dark  of  the  long  summer  day. 

There  he  looked  carefully  about  him.  Some  fifty 
feet  from  the  water's  edge  a  birch  knoll  supported, 
besides  the  birches,  a  single  big  hemlock.  With  his 
belt  axe,  Thorpe  cleared  away  the  little  white  trees. 
He  stuck  the  sharpened  end  of  one  of  them  in  the 
bark  of  the  shaggy  hemlock,  fastened  the  other  end 
in  a  crotch  eight  or  ten  feet  distant,  slanted  the  rest 
of  the  saplings  along  one  side  of  this  ridge  pole,  and 
turned  in,  after  a  hasty  supper,  leaving  the  com- 
pletion of  his  permanent  camp  to  the  morrow. 

162 


CHAPTER   SEVENTEEN 

IN  the  morning  he  thatched  smooth  the  roof  of 
the  shelter,  using  for  the  purpose  the  thick 
branches  of  hemlocks;  placed  two  green  spruce  logs 
side  by  side  as  cooking  range;  slung  his  pot  on  a 
rod  across  two  forked  sticks;  cut  and  split  a  quan- 
tity of  wood;  spread  his  blankets;  and  called  him- 
self established.  His  beard  was  already  well  grown, 
and  his  clothes  had  become  worn  by  the  brush  and 
faded  by  the  sun  and  rain.  In  the  course  of  the 
morning  he  lay  in  wait  very  patiently  near  a  spot 
overflowed  by  the  river,  where,  the  day  before,  he 
had  noticed  lily-pads  growing.  After  a  time  a  doe 
and  a  spotted  fawn  came  and  stood  ankle-deep  in 
the  water,  and  ate  of  the  lily-pads.  Thorpe  lurked 
motionless  behind  his  screen  of  leaves;  and  as  he 
had  taken  the  precaution  so  to  station  himself  that 
his  hiding-place  lay  down-wind,  the  beautiful  ani- 
mals were  unaware  of  his  presence. 

By  and  by  a  prong-buck  joined  them.  He  was  a 
two-year-old,  young,  tender,  with  the  velvet  just  off 
his  antlers.  Thorpe  aimed  at  his  shoulder,  six  inches 
above  the  belly-line,  and  pressed  the  trigger.  As 
though  by  enchantment  the  three  woods  creatures 

163 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

disappeared.  But  the  hunter  had  noticed  that, 
whereas  the  doe  and  fawn  flourished  bravely  the 
broad  white  flags  of  their  tails,  the  buck  had  seemed 
but  a  streak  of  brown.  By  this  he  knew  he  had 
hit. 

Sure  enough,  after  two  hundred  yards  of  follow- 
ing the  prints  of  sharp  hoofs  and  occasional  gobbets 
of  blood  on  the  leaves,  he  came  upon  his  prey  dead. 
It  became  necessary  to  transport  the  animal  to  camp. 
Thorpe  stuck  his  hunting  knife  deep  into  the  front 
of  the  deer's  chest,  where  the  neck  joins,  which  al- 
lowed most  of  the  blood  to  drain  away.  Then  he 
fastened  wild  grape  vines  about  the  antlers,  and, 
with  a  little  exertion  drew  the  body  after  him  as 
though  it  had  been  a  toboggan. 

It  slid  more  easily  than  one  would  imagine,  along 
the  grain;  but  not  as  easily  as  by  some  other  methods 
with  which  Thorpe  was  unfamiliar. 

At  camp  he  skinned  the  deer,  cut  most  of  the  meat 
into  thin  strips  which  he  salted  and  placed  in  the 
sun  to  dry,  and  hung  the  remainder  in  a  cool  arbor 
of  boughs.    The  hide  he  suspended  over  a  pole. 

All  these  things  he  did  hastily,  as  though  he  might 
be  in  a  hurry;  as  indeed  he  was. 

At  noon  he  cooked  himself  a  venison  steak  and 
some  tea.  Then  with  his  hatchet  he  cut  several  small 
pine  poles,  which  he  fashioned  roughly  in  a  number 
of  shapes  and  put  aside  for  the  future.  The  brains 
of  the  deer,  saved  for  the  purpose,  he  boiled  witb 

164 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

water  In  his  tin  pail,  wishing  it  were  larger.  With 
the  liquor  thus  obtained  he  intended  later  to  remove 
the  hair  and  grain  from  the  deer  hide.  Toward 
evening  he  caught  a  dozen  trout  in  the  pool  below 
the  dam.    These  he  ate  for  supper. 

Next  day  he  spread  the  buck's  hide  out  on  the 
ground  and  drenched  it  liberally  with  the  product  of 
deer-brains.  Later  the  hide  was  soaked  in  the  river, 
after  which,  by  means  of  a  rough  two-handled 
spatula,  Thorpe  was  enabled  after  much  labor  to 
scrape  away  entirely  the  hair  and  grain.  He  cut 
from  the  edge  of  the  hide  a  number  of  long  strips  of 
raw-hide,  but  anointed  the  body  of  the  skin  liberally 
with  the  brain  liquor. 

"  Glad  I  don't  have  to  do  that  every  day !  "  he 
commented,  wiping  his  brow  with  the  back  of  his 
wrist. 

As  the  skin  dried  he  worked  and  kneaded  it  to 
softness.  The  result  was  a  fair  quality  of  white 
buckskin,  the  first  Thorpe  had  ever  made.  If 
wetted,  it  would  harden  dry  and  stiff.  Thorough 
smoking  in  the  fumes  of  punk  maple  would  obviate 
this,  but  that  detail  Thorpe  left  until  later. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it's  all  necessary,"  he  said 
to  himself  doubtfully,  "  but  if  you're  going  to  as* 
sume  a  disguise,  let  it  be  a  good  one." 

In  the  meantime,  he  had  bound  together  with  his 
rawhide  thongs  several  of  the  oddly  shaped  pine 
timbers  to  form  a  species  of  dead-fall  trap.    It  was 

165 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

slow  work,  for  Thorpe's  knowledge  of  such  things 
was  theoretical.  He  had  learned  his  theory  well, 
however,  and  in  the  end  arrived. 

All  this  time  he  had  made  no  effort  to  look  over 
the  pine,  nor  did  he  intend  to  begin  until  he  could 
be  sure  of  doing  so  in  safety.  His  object  now  was 
to  give  his  knoll  the  appearances  of  a  trapper's 
camp. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  week  he  received  his  first 
visit.  Evening  was  drawing  on,  and  Thorpe  was 
busily  engaged  in  cooking  a  panful  of  trout,  resting 
the  frying  pan  across  the  two  green  spruce  logs  be- 
tween which  glowed  the  coals.  Suddenly  he  became 
aware  of  a  presence  at  his  side.  How  it  had  reached 
the  spot  he  could  not  imagine,  for  he  had  heard  no 
approach.    He  looked  up  quickly. 

"  How  do,"  greeted  the  newcomer  gravely. 

The  man  was  an  Indian,  silent,  solemn,  with  the 
straight,  unwinking  gaze  of  his  race. 

"  How  do,"  replied  Thorpe. 

The  Indian  without  further  ceremony  threw  his 
pack  to  the  ground,  and,  squatting  on  his  heels, 
watched  the  white  man's  preparations.  When  the 
meal  was  cooked,  he  coolly  produced  a  knife,  se- 
lected a  clean  bit  of  hemlock  bark,  and  helped  him" 
self.  Then  he  lit  a  pipe,  and  gazed  keenly  about 
him.     The  buckskin  interested  him. 

"  No  good,"  said  he,  feeling  of  its  texture. 

Thorpe  laughed.     "  Not  very,"  he  confessed. 
166 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

"  Good,"  continued  the  Indian,  touching  lightly 
his  own  moccasins. 

"What  you  do?"  he  inquired  after  a  long  si- 
lence, punctuated  by  the  puffs  of  tobacco. 

"Hunt;  trap;  fish,"  replied  Thorpe  with  equal 
sententiousness. 

"  Good,"  concluded  the  Indian,  after  a  ruminative 
pause. 

That  night  he  slept  on  the  ground.  Next  day  he 
made  a  better  shelter  than  Thorpe's  in  less  than  half 
the  time ;  and  was  off  hunting  before  the  sun  was  an 
hour  high.  He  was  armed  with  an  old-fashioned 
smooth-bore  muzzle-loader;  and  Thorpe  was  aston- 
ished, after  he  had  become  better  acquainted  with 
his  new  companion's  methods,  to  find  that  he  hunted 
deer  with  fine  bird  shot.  The  Indian  never  expected 
to  kill  or  even  mortally  wound  his  game;  but  he 
would  follow  for  miles  the  blood  drops  caused  by 
his  little  wounds,  until  the  animals  in  sheer  ex- 
haustion allowed  him  to  approach  close  enough  for 
a  dispatching  blow.  At  two  o'clock  he  returned 
with  a  small  buck,  tied  scientifically  together  for 
toting,  with  the  waste  parts  cut  away,  but  every 
ounce  of  utility  retained. 

"  I  show,"  said  the  Indian : — and  he  did.  Thorpe 
learned  the  Indian  tan;  of  what  use  are  the  hollow 
shank  bones;  how  the  spinal  cord  is  the  toughest, 
softest,  and  most  pliable  sewing-thread  known. 

The  Indian  appeared  to  intend  making  the  birch- 
167 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

'knoll  his  permanent  headquarters.  Thorpe  was  at 
first  a  little  suspicious  of  his  new  companion,  but  the 
man  appeared  scrupulously  honest,  was  never  in- 
trusive, and  even  seemed  genuinely  desirous  of  teach- 
ing the  white  little  tricks  of  the  woods  brought  to 
their  perfection  by  the  Indian  alone.  He  ended  by 
liking  him.  The  two  rarely  spoke.  They  merely 
sat  near  each  other,  and  smoked.  One  evening  the 
Indian  suddenly  remarked: 

"  You  look  'urn  tree." 

"  What's  that"?  "  cried  Thorpe,  startled. 

"  You  no  hunter,  no  trapper.  You  look  'urn  tree, 
for  make  'urn  lumber." 

,  The  white  had  not  begun  as  yet  his  explorations. 
He  did  not  dare  until  the  return  of  the  logging  crew 
or  the  passing  of  some  one  in  authority  at  the  up- 
river  camp,  for  he  wished  first  to  establish  in  their 
minds  the  innocence  of  his  intentions. 

"What  makes  you  think  that,  Charley?"  he 
asked. 

"  You  good  man  in  woods,"  replied  Injin  Charley 
sententiously,  "  I  tell  by  way  you  look  at  him 
pine." 

Thorpe  ruminated. 

"  Charley,"'  said  he,  "  why  are  you  staying  hero 
with  me?" 

"  Big  frien',"  replied  the  Indian  promptly. 

"Why  are  you  my  friend?     What  have  I  eve 
done  for  you?  " 

168 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

"  You  gottum  chief's  eye,"  replied  his  companion 
With  simplicity. 

Thorpe  looked  at  the  Indian  again.  There  seemed 
to  be  only  one  course. 

"  Yes,  I'm  a  lumberman,"  he  confessed,  '•'  and 
I'm  looking  for  pine.  But,  Charley,  the  men  up  the 
river  must  not  know  what  I'm  after." 

"  They  gettum  pine,"  interjected  the  Indian  like 
a  flash. 

"  Exactly,"  replied  Thorpe,  surprised  afresh  at 
the  other's  perspicacity. 

"Good!"  ejaculated  Injin  Charley,  and  fell  si- 
lent. 

With  this,  the  longest  conversation  the  two  had 
attempted  in  their  peculiar  acquaintance,  Thorpe 
was  forced  to  be  content.  He  was,  however,  ill  at 
ease  over  the  incident.  It  added  an  element  of  un- 
certainty to  an  already  precarious  position. 

Three  days  later  he  was  intensely  thankful  the 
conversation  had  taken  place. 

After  the  noon  meal  he  lay  on  his  blanket  under 
the  hemlock  shelter,  smoking  and  lazily  watching 
Injin  Charley  busy  at  the  side  of  the  trail.  The 
Indian  had  terminated  a  long  two  days'  search  by 
toting  from  the  forest  a  number  of  strips  of  the 
outer  bark  of  white  birch,  in  its  green  state  pli- 
able as  cotton,  thick  as  leather,  and  light  as  air. 
These  he  had  cut  into  arbitrary  patterns  known 
only  to  himself,  and  was  now  sewing  as  a  long 

169 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

ghapeless  sort  of  bag  or  sac  to  a  slender  beech- 
wood  oval.  Later  it  was  to  become  a  birch-bark 
canoe,  and  the  beech-wood  oval  would  be  the  gun- 
wale. 

So  idly  intent  was  Thorpe  on  this  piece  of  con- 
struction that  he  did  not  notice  the  approach  of  two 
men  from  the  down-stream  side.  They  were  short, 
alert  men,  plodding  along  with  the  knee-bent  per- 
sistency of  the  woods-walker,  dressed  in  broad  hats, 
flannel  shirts,  coarse  trousers  tucked  in  high  laced 
u  cruisers  " ;  and  carrying  each  a  bulging  meal  sack 
looped  by  a  cord  across  the  shoulders  and  chest. 
Both  were  armed  with  long  slender  scaler's  rules. 
The  first  intimation  Thorpe  received  of  the  presence 
of  these  two  men  was  the  sound  of  their  voices 
addressing  Injin  Charley. 

"  Hullo  Charley,"  said  one  of  them,  "  what  yon 
doing  here?  Ain't  seen  you  since  th'  Sturgeon  dis- 
trict." 

N'  "  Mak'  'urn  canoe,"  replied  Charley  rather  ob- 
viously. 

;     "  So  I  see.     But  what  you  expect  to  get  in  thi3 
'God-forsaken  country1?  " 
1      "  Beaver,  muskrat,  mink,  otter." 

"Trapping,  eh1?"  The  man  gazed  keenly  at 
Thorpe's  recumbent  figure.  "  Who's  the  other  fel- 
low4?" 

Thorpe  held  his  breath;  then  exhaled  it  in  a  long 
sigh  of  relief. 

170 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

"  Him  white  man,"  Injin  Charley  was  replying, 
"  him  hunt  too.    He  mak'  'um  buckskin." 

The  landlooker  arose  lazily  and  sauntered  toward 
the  group.  It  was  part  of  his  plan  to  be  well  recog- 
nized so  that  in  the  future  he  might  arouse  no  sus- 
picions. 

"  Howdy,"  he  drawled,  S\  got  any  smokin'  %  " 

"  How  are  you,"  replied  one  of  the  scalers,  eying 
him  sharply,  and  tendering  his  pouch.  Thorpe  filled 
his  pipe  deliberately,  and  returned  it  with  a  heavy- 
lidded  glance  of  thanks.  To  all  appearances  he  was 
one  of  the  lazy,  shiftless  white  hunters  of  the  back- 
woods. Seized  with  an  inspiration,  he  said,  "  What 
sort  of  chances  is  they  at  your  camp  for  a  little 
flour?  Me  and  Charley's  about  out.  I'll  bring  you 
meat;  or  I'll  make  you  boys  moccasins.  I  got  some 
good  buckskin." 

It  was  the  usual  proposition. 

"  Pretty  good,  I  guess.  Come  up  and  see,"  ad- 
vised the  scaler.     "  The  crew's  right  behind  us." 

"  I'll  send  up  Charley,"  drawled  Thorpe,  "  I'm 
busy  now  makin'  traps,"  he  waved  his  pipe,  calling 
attention  to  the  pine  and  rawhide  dead-falls. 

They  chatted  a  few  moments,  practically  and  with 
an  eye  to  the  strict  utility  of  things  about  them,  as 
became  woodsmen.  Then  two  wagons  creaked  lurch- 
ing by,  followed  by  fifteen  or  twenty  men.  The  last 
of  these,  evidently  the  foreman,  was  joined  by  the 
two  scalers. 

171 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  What's  that  outfit'? "  he  inquired  with  the 
sharpness  of  suspicion. 

"  Old  Injin  Charley— you  remember,  the  old  boy 
that  tanned  that  buck  for  you  down  on  Cedar 
Creek." 

"  Yes,  but  the  other  fellow." 

"  Oh,  a  hunter,"  replied  the  scaler  carelessly. 

"Sure?" 

The  man  laughed.  "  Couldn't  be  nothin'  else," 
he  asserted  with  confidence.  "  Regular  old  back- 
woods mossback." 

At  the  same  time  Injin  Charley  was  setting  about 
the  splitting  of  a  cedar  log. 

"  You  see,"  he  remarked,  "  I  big  frien'." 


172 


I 


CHAPTER    EIGHTEEN 

N  the  days  that  followed,  Thorpe  cruised  about 
the  great  woods.  It  was  slow  business,  but  fas- 
cinating. He  knew  that  when  he  should  embark 
on  his  attempt  to  enlist  considerable  capital  in  an 
"  unsight  unseen  "  investment,  he  would  have  to  be 
well  supplied  with  statistics.  True,  he  was  not  much 
of  a  timber  estimator,  nor  did  he  know  the  methods 
usually  employed,  but  his  experience,  observation, 
and  reading  had  developed  a  latent  sixth  sense  by 
which  he  could  appreciate  quality,  difficulties  of 
logging,  and  such  kindred  practical  matters. 

First  of  all  he  walked  over  the  country  at  large, 
to  find  where  the  best  timber  lay.  This  was  a  mat- 
ter of  tramping;  though  often  on  an  elevation  he 
succeeded  in  climbing  a  tall  tree  whence  he  caught 
bird's-eye  views  of  the  country  at  large.  He  always 
carried  his  gun  with  him,  and  was  prepared  at  a 
moment's  notice  to  seem  engaged  in  hunting — either 
for  game  or  for  spots  in  which  later  to  set  his  traps. 
The  expedient  was,  however,  unnecessary. 

Next  he  ascertained  the  geographical  location  of 
the  different  clumps  and  forests,  entering  the  sec- 
tions, the  quarter-sections,  even  the  separate  forties 

173 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

in  his  note-book;  taking  in  only  the  "  descriptions  " 
containing  the  best  pine. 

Finally  he  wrote  accurate  notes  concerning  the 
topography  of  each  and  every  pine  district — the  lay 
of  the  land;  the  hills,  ravines,  swamps,  and  valleys; 
the  distance  from  the  river;  the  character  of  the  soil. 
In  short,  he  accumulated  all  the  information  he 
could  by  which  the  cost  of  logging  might  be  esti- 
mated. 

The  work  went  much  quicker  than  he  had  antici- 
pated, mainly  because  he  could  give  his  entire  atten- 
tion to  it.  Injin  Charley  attended  to  the  commis- 
sary, with  a  delight  in  the  process  that  removed  it 
from  the  category  of  work.  When  it  rained,  an  in- 
frequent occurrence,  the  two  hung  Thorpe's  rubber 
blankets  before  the  opening  of  the  driest  shelter,  and 
waited  philosophically  for  the  weather  to  clear. 
Injin  Charley  had  finished  the  first  canoe,  and  was 
now  leisurely  at  work  on  another.  Thorpe  had  filled 
his  note-book  with  the  class  of  statistics  just  de- 
scribed. He  decided  now  to  attempt  an  estimate  of 
the  timber. 

For  this  he  had  really  too  little  experience.  He 
knew  it,  but  determined  to  do  his  best.  The  weak 
point  of  his  whole  scheme  lay  in  that  it  was  going  to 
be  impossible  for  him  to  allow  the  prospective  pur- 
chaser a  chance  of  examining  the  pine.  That  diffi- 
culty Thorpe  hoped  to  overcome  by  inspiring  per- 
sonal confidence  in  himself.     If  he  failed  to  do  so, 

174 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

he  might  return  with  a  landlooker  whom  the  in- 
vestor trusted,  and  the  two  could  re-enact  the 
comedy  of  this  summer.  Thorpe  hoped,  however, 
to  avoid  the  necessity.  It  would  be  too  dan- 
gerous. He  set  about  a  rough  estimate  of  the 
timber. 

Injin  Charley  intended  evidently  to  work  up  a 
trade  in  buckskin  during  the  coming  winter.  Al- 
though the  skins  were  in  poor  condition  at  this  time 
of  the  year,  he  tanned  three  more,  and  smoked  them. 
In  the  day-time  he  looked  the  country  over  as  care- 
fully as  did  Thorpe.  But  he  ignored  the  pines,  and 
paid  attention  only  to  the  hardwood  and  the  beds, 
of  little  creeks.  Injin  Charley  was  in  reality  a  trap- 
per, and  he  intended  to  get  many  fine  skins  in  this 
promising  district.  He  worked  on  his  tanning  and 
his  canoe-making  late  in  the  afternoon. 

One  evening  just  at  sunset  Thorpe  was  helping 
the  Indian  shape  his  craft.  The  loose  sac  of  birch- 
bark  sewed  to  the  long  beech  oval  was  slung  between 
two  tripods.  Injin  Charley  had  fashioned  a  number 
of  thin,  flexible  cedar  strips  of  certain  arbitrary 
lengths  and  widths.  Beginning  with  the  smallest  of 
these,  Thorpe  and  his  companion  were  catching  one 
end  under  the  beech  oval,  bending  the  strip  bow- 
shape  inside  the  sac,  and  catching  again  the  other 
Jide  of  the  oval.  Thus  the  spring  of  the  bent  cedar, 
pressing  against  the  inside  of  the  birch-bark  sac,  dis- 
tended it  tightly.    The  cut  of  the  sac  and  the  length 

*75 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

of  the  cedar  strips  gave  to  the  canoe  its  graceful 
shape. 

The  two  men  bent  there  at  their  task,  the  dull 
glow  of  evening  falling  upon  them.  Behind  them 
the  knoll  stood  out  in  picturesque  relief  against  the 
darker  pine — the  little  shelters,  the  fire-places  of 
green  spruce,  the  blankets,  the  guns,  a  deer's  carcass 
suspended  by  the  feet  from  a  cross  pole,  the  drying 
buckskin  on  either  side.  The  river  rushed  by  with 
a  never-ending  roar  and  turmoil.  Through  its  shout- 
ing one  perceived,  as  through  a  mist,  the  still  lofty 
peace  of  evening. 

A  young  fellow,  hardly  more  than  a  boy,  ex- 
claimed with  keen  delight  of  the  picturesque  as  his 
canoe  shot  around  the  bend  into  sight  of  it. 

The  canoe  was  large  and  powerful,  but  well  filled. 
An  Indian  knelt  in  the  stern;  amidships  was  well 
laden  with  dufrle  of  all  descriptions ;  then  the  young 
fellow  sat  in  the  bow.  He  was  a  bright-faced,  eager- 
eyed,  curly-haired  young  fellow,  all  enthusiasm  and 
fire.  His  figure  was  trim  and  clean,  but  rather  slen- 
der; and  his  movements  were  quick  but  nervous. 
When  he  stepped  carefully  out  on  the  flat  rock  to 
which  his  guide  brought  the  canoe  with  a  swirl  of 
the  paddle,  one  initiated  would  have  seen  that  his 
clothes,  while  strong  and  serviceable,  had  been 
bought  from  a  sporting  catalogue.  There  was  a 
trimness,  a  neatness,  about  them. 

"  This  is  a  good  place,"  he  said  to  the  guide, 
176 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

*'  we'll  camp  here."  Then  he  turned  up  the  steep 
bank  without  looking  back. 

"  Hullo!  "  he  called  in  a  cheerful,  unembarrassed 
fashion  to  Thorpe  and  Charley.  "  How  are  you? 
Care  if  I  camp  here?  What  you  making?  By 
Jove !  I  never  saw  a  canoe  made  before.  I'm  going 
to  watch  you.    Keep  right  at  it." 

He  sat  on  one  of  the  outcropping  boulders  and 
took  off  his  hat. 

"  Say !  you've  got  a  great  place  here !  You  here 
all  summer?  Hullo!  you've  got  a  deer  hanging  up. 
Are  there  many  of  'em  around  here?  I'd  like  to  kill 
a  deer  first  rate.  I  never  have.  It's  sort  of  out  of 
season  now,  isn't  it?  " 

"  We  only  kill  the  bucks,"  replied  Thorpe. 

"  I  like  fishing,  too,"  went  on  the  boy;  "  are  there 
any  here?  In  the  pool?  John,"  he  called  to  his 
guide,  "  bring  me  my  fishing  tackle." 

In  a  few  moments  he  was  whipping  the  pool  with 
long,  graceful  drops  of  the  fly.  He  proved  to  be 
adept.  Thorpe  and  Injin  Charley  stopped  work  to 
watch  him.  At  first  the  Indian's  stolid  counte- 
nance seemed  a  trifle  doubtful.  After  a  time  it 
cleared. 

"  Good !  "  he  grunted. 

"  You  do  that  well,"  Thorpe  remarked.     "  Is  it 

difficult?  " 

"  It  takes  practice,"  replied  the  boy.  "  See  that 
riffle?"     He  whipped  the  fly  lightly  within  cix 

177 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

inches  of  a  little  suction  hole ;  a  fish  at  once  rose  and 
struck. 

The  others  had  been  little  fellows  and  easily 
handled.  At  the  end  of  fifteen  minutes  the  new- 
comer landed  a  fine  two-pounder. 

"  That  must  be  fun,"  commented  Thorpe.  "  I 
never  happened  to  get  in  with  fly-fishing.  I'd  like 
to  try  it  sometime." 

"  Try  it  now !  "  urged  the  boy,  enchanted  that  he 
could  teach  a  woodsman  anything. 

"  No,"  Thorpe  declined,  "  not  to-night,  to-mor- 
row perhaps." 

The  other  Indian  had  by  now  finished  the  erection 
of  a  tent,  and  had  begun  to  cook  supper  over  a  little 
sheet-iron  camp  stove.  Thorpe  and  Charley  could 
smell  ham. 

"  You've  got  quite  a  pantry,"  remarked  Thorpe. 

"  Won't  you  eat  with  me?  "  proffered  the  boy 
hospitably. 

But  Thorpe  declined.  He  could,  however,  see 
canned  goods,  hard  tack,  and  condensed  milk. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  the  boy  approached 
the  older  man's  camp,  and,  with  a  charming  dif- 
fidence, asked  permission  to  sit  a  while  at  their  fire. 

He  was  full  of  delight  over  everything  that 
savored  of  the  woods,  or  woodscraft.  The  most 
trivial  and  everyday  affairs  of  the  life  interested 
him.  His  eager  questions,  so  frankly  proffered, 
aroused  even  the  taciturn  Charley  to  eloquence.  The 

178 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

construction  of  the  shelter,  the  cut  of  a  deer's  hide, 
the  simple  process  of  "  jerking  "  venison — all  these 
awakened  his  enthusiasm. 

"  It  must  be  good  to  live  in  the  woods,"  he  said 
with  a  sigh,  "to  do  all  things  for  yourself.  It's  so 
free !  " 

The  men's  moccasins  interested  him.  He  asked  a 
dozen  questions  about  them — how  they  were  cut, 
whether  they  did  not  hurt  the  feet,  how  long  they 
would  wear.  He  seemed  surprised  to  learn  that  they 
are  excellent  in  cold  weather. 

"  I  thought  any  leather  would  wet  through  in  the 
snow !  "  he  cried.  "  I  wish  I  could  get  a  pair  some- 
where! "  he  exclaimed.  "  You  don't  know  where  I 
could  buy  any,  do  you?  "  he  asked  of  Thorpe. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  he,  "  perhaps  Charley 
here  will  make  you  a  pair." 

"  Will  you,  Charley*?  "  cried  the  boy. 

"  I  mak'  him,"  replied  the  Indian  stolidly. 

The  many-voiced  night  of  the  woods  descended 
close  about  the  little  camp  fire,  and  its  soft  breezes 
wafted  stray  sparks  here  and  there  like  errant  stars. 
The  newcomer,  with  shining  eyes,  breathed  deep  in 
satisfaction.  He  was  keenly  alive  to  the  romance, 
the  grandeur,  the  mystery,  the  beauty  of  the  littlest 
things,  seeming  to  derive  a  deep  and  solid  content- 
ment from  the  mere  contemplation  of  the  woods  and 
»ts  ways  and  creatures. 

"  I  just  do  iov«  this!  "  he  cried  again  and  again. , 
179 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  Oh,  it's  great,  after  all  that  fuss  down  there ! " 
and  he  cried  it  so  fervently  that  the  other  men  pres- 
ent smiled;  but  so  genuinely  that  the  smile  had  in  it 
nothing  but  kindliness. 

"  I  came  out  for  a  month,"  said  he  suddenly, 
"  and  I  guess  I'll  stay  the  rest  of  it  right  here. 
You'll  let  me  go  with  you  sometimes  hunting,  won't 
you4? "  he  appealed  to  them  with  the  sudden  open- 
heartedness  of  a  child.  "  I'd  like  first  rate  to  kill  a 
deer." 

"  Sure,"  said  Thorpe,  "  glad  to  have  you." 

"  My  name  is  Wallace  Carpenter,"  said  the  boy 
with  a  sudden  unmistakable  air  of  good-breeding. 

"  Well,"  laughed  Thorpe,  "  two  old  woods  loaf- 
ers like  us  haven't  got  much  use  for  names.  Charley 
here  is  called  Geezigut,  and  mine's  nearly  as  bad; 
but  I  guess  plain  Charley  and  Harry  will  do." 

"  All  right,  Harry,"  replied  Wallace. 

After  the  young  fellow  had  crawled  into  the  sleep- 
ing bag  which  his  guide  had  spread  for  him  over  a 
fragrant  layer  of  hemlock  and  balsam,  Thorpe  and 
his  companion  smoked  one  more  pipe.  The  whip- 
poor-wills  called  back  and  forth  across  the  river. 
Down  in  the  thicket,  fine,  clear,  beautiful,  like  the 
silver  thread  of  a  dream,  came  the  notes  of  the 
white-throat — the  nightingale  of  the  North.  Injin 
Charley  knocked  the  last  ashes  from  his  pipe. 

"  Him  nice  boy !  "  said  he. 

180 


CHAPTER   NINETEEN 

THE  young  fellow  stayed  three  weeks,  and  was 
a  constant  joy  to  Thorpe.  His  enthusiasms 
were  so  whole-souled;  his  delight  so  perpetual;  his 
interest  so  fresh!  The  most  trivial  expedients  of 
woods  lore  seemed  to  him  wonderful.  A  dozen 
times  a  day  he  exclaimed  in  admiration  or  surprise 
over  some  bit  of  woodcraft  practiced  by  Thorpe  or 
one  of  the  Indians. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  have  lived  here  six 
weeks  and  only  brought  in  what  you  could  carry  on 
your  backs !  "  he  cried. 

"  Sure,"  Thorpe  replied. 

"Harry,  you're  wonderful!  Pve  got  a  whole 
canoe  load,  and  imagined  I  was  travelling  light  and 
roughing  it.  You  beat  Robinson  Crusoe!  He  had 
a  whole  ship  to  draw  from." 

"  My  man  Friday  helps  me  out,"  answered 
Thorpe,  laughingly  indicating  Injin  Charley. 

Nearly  a  week  passed  before  Wallace  managed  to 
kill  a  deer.  The  animals  were  plenty  enough;  but 
the  young  man's  volatile  and  eager  attention  stole 
his  patience.  And  what  few  running  shots  offered, 
he  missed,  mainly  because  of  buck  fever.  Finally, 
by  a  lucky  chance,  he  broke  a  four-year-old's  neck, 

i8j 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

dropping  him  in  his  tracks.  The  hunter  was  de- 
lighted. He  insisted  on  doing  everything  for  him- 
self— cruel  hard  work  it  was  too — including  the 
toting  and  skinning.  Even  the  tanning  he  had  a 
share  in.  At  first  he  wanted  the  hide  cured,  "  with 
the  hair  on."  Injin  Charley  explained  that  the  fur 
would  drop  out.  It  was  the  wrong  season  of  the 
year  for  pelts. 

"  Then  we'll  have  buckskin  and  I'll  get  a  buck- 
skin shirt  out  of  it,"  suggested  Wallace. 

Injin  Charley  agreed.  One  day  Wallace  returned 
from  fishing  in  the  pool  to  find  that  the  Indian  had 
cut  out  the  garment,  and  was  already  sewing  it  to- 
gether. 

"  Oh !  "  he  cried,  a  little  disappointed,  "  I  wanted 
to  see  it  done !  " 

Injin  Charley  merely  grunted.  To  make  a  buck- 
skin shirt  requires  the  hides  of  three  deer.  Charley 
had  supplied  the  other  two,  and  wished  to  keep  th? 
young  man  from  finding  it  out. 

Wallace  assumed  the  woods  life  as  a  man  would 
assume  an  unaccustomed  garment.  It  sat  him  well, 
and  he  learned  fast,  but  he  was  always  conscious  of 
it.  He  liked  to  wear  moccasins,  and  a  deer  knife; 
he  liked  to  cook  his  own  supper,  or  pluck  the  fragrant 
hemlock  browse  for  his  pillow.  Always  he  seemed 
to  be  trying  to  realize  and  to  savor  fully  the  charm, 
the  picturesqueness,  the  romance  of  all  that  he  was 
doing  and  seeing.     To  Thorpe  these  things  were  a 

182 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

part  of  everyday  life ;  matters  of  expedient  or  neces- 
sity. He  enjoyed  them,  but  subconsciously,  as  one 
enjoys  an  environment.  Wallace  trailed  the  cloak 
of  his  glories  in  frank  admiration  of  their  splendor. 

This  double  point  of  view  brought  the  men  very 
close  together.  Thorpe  liked  the  boy  because  he  was 
open-hearted,  free  from  affectation,  assumptive  of 
no  superiority — in  short,  because  he  was  direct  and 
sincere,  although  in  a  manner  totally  different  from 
Thorpe's  own  directness  and  sincerity.  Wallace,  on 
his  part,  adored  in  Thorpe  the  free,  open-air  life,  the 
adventurous  quality,  the  quiet  hidden  power,  the  re- 
sourcefulness and  self-sufficiency  of  the  pioneer. 
He  was  too  young  as  yet  to  go  behind  the  picturesque 
or  romantic;  so  he  never  thought  to  inquire  of  him- 
self what  Thorpe  did  there  in  the  wilderness,  or  in* 
deed  if  he  did  anything  at  all.  He  accepted  Thorpe 
for  what  he  thought  him  to  be,  rather  than  for  what 
he  might  think  him  to  be.  Thus  he  reposed  un- 
bounded confidence  in  him. 

After  a  while,  observing  the  absolute  ingenuous- 
ness of  the  boy,  Thorpe  used  to  take  him  from  time 
to  time  on  some  of  his  daily  trips  to  the  pines. 
Necessarily  he  explained  partially  his  position  and 
the  need  of  secrecy.  Wallace  was  immensely  ex- 
cited and  important  at  learning  a  secret  of  such 
moment,  and  deeply  flattered  at  being  entrusted 
with  it. 

Some  may  think  that  here,  considering  the  magni- 
183 


1  HE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

tude  of  the  interests  involved,  Thorpe  committed  an 
indiscretion.  It  may  be;  but  if  so,  it  was  practically 
an  inevitable  indiscretion.  Strong,  reticent  charac- 
ters like  Thorpe's  prove  the  need  from  time  to  time 
of  violating  their  own  natures,  of  running  counter  to 
their  ordinary  habits  of  mind  and  deed.  It  is  a  nec- 
essary relaxation  of  the  strenuous,  a  debauch  of  the 
soul.  Its  analogy  in  the  lower  plane  is  to  be  found 
in  the  dissipations  of  men  of  genius;  or  still  lower 
in  the  orgies  of  fighters  out  of  training.  Sooner  or 
later  Thorpe  was  sure  to  emerge  for  a  brief  space 
from  that  iron-bound  silence  of  the  spirit,  of  which 
he  himself  was  the  least  aware.  It  was  not  so  much 
a  hunger  for  affection,  as  the  desire  of  a  strong  man 
temporarily  to  get  away  from  his  strength.  Wal- 
lace Carpenter  became  in  his  case  the  exception  to 
prove  the  rule. 

Little  by  little  the  eager  questionings  of  the  youth 
extracted  a  full  statement  of  the  situation.  He 
learned  of  the  timber-thieves  up  the  river,  of  their 
present  operations;  and  their  probable  plans;  of  the 
valuable  pine  lying  still  unclaimed;  of  Thorpe's 
stealthy  raid  into  the  enemy's  country.  It  looked 
big  to  him — epic!  These  were  tremendous  forces 
in  motion,  here  was  intrigue,  here  was  direct  prac- 
tical application  of  the  powers  he  had  been  playing 
with. 

"  Why,  it's  great !  It's  better  than  any  book  I 
ever  read !  " 

184 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

He  wanted  to  know  what  he  could  do  to  help. 

"  Nothing  except  keep  quiet,"  replied  Thorpe,  al- 
ready uneasy,  not  lest  the  boy  should  prove  unre- 
liable, but  lest  his  very  eagerness  to  seem  uncon- 
cerned should  arouse  suspicion.  "  You  mustn't  try 
to  act  any  different.  If  the  men  from  up-river  come 
by,  be  just  as  cordial  to  them  as  you  can,  and  don't 
act  mysterious  and  important." 

"  All  right,"  agreed  Wallace,  bubbling  with  ex- 
citement. "  And  then  what  do  you  do — after  you 
get  the  timber  estimated*?  " 

"I'll  go  South  and  try,  quietly,  to  raise  some 
money.  That  will  be  difficult,  because,  you  see, 
people  don't  know  me;  and  I  am  not  in  a  position 
to  let  them  look  over  the  timber.  Of  course  it  will 
be  merely  a  question  of  my  judgment.  They  can 
go  themselves  to  the  Land  Office  and  pay  their 
money.  There  won't  be  any  chance  of  my  making 
way  with  that.  The  investors  will  become  pos- 
sessed of  certain  '  descriptions '  lying  in  this  coun- 
try, all  right  enough.  The  rub  is,  will  they  have 
enough  confidence  in  me  and  my  judgment  to  be- 
lieve the  timber  to  be  what  I  represent  it?  " 

'"'  I  see,"  commented  Wallace,  suddenly  grave. 

That  evening  Injin  Charley  went  on  with  his 
canoe  building.  He  melted  together  in  a  pot,  resin 
and  pitch.  The  proportion  he  determined  by  ex- 
periment, for  the  mixture  had  to  be  neither  hard 
sntaigh  to  crack  nor  soft  enough  to  melt  in  the  sun. 

18s 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Then  he  daubed  the  mess  over  all  the  seams.  Wal- 
lace superintended  the  operation  for  a  time  in  si- 
lence. 

"  Harry,"  he  said  suddenly  with  a  crisp  decision 
new  to  his  voice,  "  will  you  take  a  little  walk  with 
me  down  by  the  dam.    I  want  to  talk  with  you." 

They  strolled  to  the  edge  of  the  bank  and  stood 
for  a  moment  looking  at  the  swirling  waters. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all  about  logging,"  began 
Wallace.  "  Start  from  the  beginning.  Suppose,  for 
instance,  you  had  bought  this  pine  here  we  were 
talking  about — what  would  be  your  first  move?  " 

They  sat  side  by  side  on  a  log,  and  Thorpe  ex- 
plained. He  told  of  the  building  of  the  camps,  the 
making  of  the  roads ;  the  cutting,  swamping,  travoy- 
ing,  skidding;  the  banking  and  driving.  Uncon- 
sciously a  little  of  the  battle  clang  crept  into  his 
narrative.  It  became  a  struggle,  a  gasping  tug  and 
heave  for  supremacy  between  the  man  and  the  wil- 
derness. The  excitement  of  war  was  in  it.  When 
he  had  finished,  Wallace  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  When  I  am  home,"  said  he  simply,  "  I  live  in  a 
big  house  on  the  Lake  Shore  Drive.  It  is  heated  by 
steam  and  lighted  by  electricity.  I  touch  a  button 
or  turn  a  screw,  and  at  once  I  am  lighted  and 
warmed.  At  certain  hours  meals  are  served  me.  I 
don't  know  how  they  are  cooked,  or  where  the  mate- 
rials come  from.  Since  leaving  college  I  have  spent 
a  little  time  down  town  every  dav;  and  then  Iff* 

186 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

played  golf  or  tennis  or  ridden  a  horse  in  the  park. 
The  only  real  thing  left  is  the  sailing.  The  wind 
blows  just  as  hard  and  the  waves  mount  just  as  high 
to-day  as  they  did  when  Drake  sailed.  All  the  rest 
is  tame.  We  do  little  imitations  of  the  real  thing 
with  blue  ribbons  tied  to  them,  and  think  we  are 
camping  or  roughing  it.  This  life  of  yours  is  glori- 
ous, is  vital,  it  means  something  in  the  march  of  the 
world; — and  I  doubt  whether  ours  does.  You  are 
subduing  the  wilderness,  extending  the  frontier. 
After  you  will  come  the  backwoods  farmer  to  pull 
up  the  stumps;  and  after  him  the  big  farmer  and 
the  cities." 

The  young  fellow  spoke  with  unexpected  swift- 
ness and  earnestness.  Thorpe  looked  at  him  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  thinking,"  said  the  boy, 
flushing.  "  You  are  surprised  that  I  can  be  in  ear- 
nest about  anything.  I'm  out  of  school  up  here. 
Let  me  shout  and  play  with  the  rest  of  the  children." 

Thorpe  watched  him  with  sympathetic  eyes,  but 
#ith  lips  that  obstinately  refused  co  say  one  word. 
A  woman  would  have  felt  rebuffed.  The  boy's  ad- 
miration, however,  rested  on  the  foundation  of  the 
more  manly  qualities  he  had  already  seen  in  his 
friend.  Perhaps  this  very  aloofness,  this  very  silent, 
*teady-eyed  power  appealed  to  him. 

"  I  left  college  at  nineteen  because  my  father 
died,"  said  he.     "  I  am  now  just  twenty-one.     A 

187 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

large  estate  descended  to  me,  and  I  have  had  to  tare 
for  its  investments  all  alone.  I  have  one  sister — 
that  is  all." 

"  So  have  I,"  cried  Thorpe,  and  stopped. 

"  The  estates  have  not  suffered,"  went  on  the  boy 
simply.  "  I  have  done  well  with  them.  But,"  he 
cried  fiercely,  "  I  hate  it!  It  is  petty  and  mean  and 
worrying  and  nagging!  That's  why  I  was  so  glad 
to  get  out  in  the  woods." 

He  paused. 

"  Have  some  tobacco,"  said  Thorpe. 

Wallace  accepted  with  a  nod. 

"  Now,  Harry,  I  have  a  proposal  to  make  to  you. 
It  is  this;  you  need  thirty  thousand  dollars  to  buy 
your  land.  Let  me  supply  it,  and  come  in  as  half 
partner." 

An  expression  of  doubt  crossed  the  landlookefs 
face. 

"  Oh  please !  "  cried  the  boy,  "  I  do  want  to  get 
in  something  real !    It  will  be  the  making  of  me !  " 

"  Now  see  here,"  interposed  Thorpe  suddenly, 
*'  you  don't  even  know  my  name." 

"  I  know  you"  replied  the  boy. 

"  My  name  is  Karry  Thorpe,"  pursued  the  other. 
"  My  father  was  Henry  Thorpe,  an  embezzler." 

"  Harry,"  replied  Wallace  soberly,  "  I  am  sorry 
I  made  you  say  that.  I  do  not  care  for  your  name — 
except  perhaps  to  put  it  in  the  articles  of  partner- 
ship— and  I  have  no  concern  with  vour  ancestry.    I 

188 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

tell  you  it  is  a  favor  to  let  me  in  on  this  deal.  I 
'ion't  know  anything  about  lumbering,  but  I've  got 
eyes.  I  can  see  that  big  timber  standing  up  thick 
and  tall,  and  I  know  people  make  profits  in  the  busi- 
ness. It  isn't  a  question  of  the  raw  material  surely, 
and  you  have  experience." 

"  Not  so  much  as  you  think,"  interposed  Thorpe. 

"  There  remains,"  went  on  Wallace  without  at- 
tention to  Thorpe's  remark,  "  only  the  question 
of " 

"  My  honesty,"  interjected  Thorpe  grimly. 

"  No !  "  cried  the  boy  hotly,  "  of  your  letting  me 
in  on  a  good  thing !  " 

Thorpe  considered  a  few  moments  in  silence. 

"  Wallace,"  he  said  gravely  at  last,  "  I  honestly 
do  think  that  whoever  goes  into  this  deal  with  me 
will  make  money.  Of  course  there's  always  chances 
against  it.  But  I  am  going  to  do  my  best.  I've  seen 
other  men  fail  at  it,  and  the  reason  they've  failed  is 
because  they  did  not  demand  success  of  others  and 
of  themselves.  That's  it;  success!  When  a  general 
commanding  troops  receives  2  report  on  something 
he's  ordered  done,  he  does  not  crouble  himself  with 
excuses;— he  merely  asks  whether  or  not  the  thing 
was  accomplished.  Difficulties  don't  count.  It  is  a 
soldier's  duty  to  perform  the  impossible.  Well, 
that's  the  way  it  ought  to  be  with  us.  A  man  has 
no  right  to  come  to  me  and  say,  '  I  failed  because 
such  and  such  things  happened.'     Either  he  should 

189 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

succeed  in  spite  of  it  all;  or  he  should  step  up  and 
take  his  medicine  without  whining.  Well,  I'm  go- 
ing to  succeed !  " 

The  man's  accustomed  aloofness  had  gone.  His 
eye  flashed,  his  brow  frowned,  the  muscles  of  his 
cheeks  contracted  under  his  beard.  In  the  bronze 
light  of  evening  he  looked  like  a  fire-breathing  statue 
to  that  great  ruthless  god  he  had  himself  invoked — 
Success. 

Wallace  gazed  at  him  with  fascinated  admiration. 

"  Then  you  will?  "  he  asked  tremulously. 

"  Wallace,"  he  replied  again,  "  they'll  say  you 
have  been  the  victim  of  an  adventurer,  but  the  result 
will  prove  them  wrong.  If  I  weren't  perfectly  sure 
of  this,  I  wouldn't  think  of  it,  for  I  like  you,  and  I 
know  you  want  to  go  into  this  more  out  of  friendship 
for  me  and  because  your  imagination  is  touched, 
than  from  any  business  sense.  But  I'll  accept, 
gladly.    And  I'll  do  my  best!  " 

"  Hooray !  "  cried  the  boy,  throwing  his  cap  up  in 
the  air.    "  We'll  do  'em  up  in  the  first  round!  " 

At  last  when  Wallace  Carpenter  reluctantly  quit- 
ted his  friends  on  the  Ossawinamakee,  he  insisted  on 
leaving  with  them  a  variety  of  the  things  he  had 
brought. 

"  I'm  through  with  them,"  said  he.  "  Next  time 
I  come  up  here  we'll  have  a  camp  of  our  own,  won't 
we,  Harry"?  And  I  do  feel  that  I  am  awfully  in 
you  fellows'  debt.     You've  given  me  the  best  time 

190 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

I  have  over  had  in  my  life,  and  you've  refused  pay- 
ment for  the  moccasins  and  things  you've  made  for 
me.  I'd  feel  much  better  if  you'd  accept  them — just 
as  keepsakes." 

"All  right,  Wallace,"  replied  Thorpe,  "and 
much  obliged." 

"  Don't  forget  to  come  straight  to  me  when  you 
get  through  estimating,  now,  will  you*?  Come  to 
the  house  and  stay.  Our  compact  holds  now,  honest 
Injin;  doesn't  it?  "  asked  the  boy  anxiously. 

"  Honest  Injin,"  laughed  Thorpe     "  Good-by." 

The  little  canoe  shot  away  down  the  current.  The 
last  Injin  Charley  and  Thorpe  saw  of  the  boy  was 
as  he  turned  the  curve.  His  hat  was  off  and  waving 
in  his  hand,  his  curls  were  blowing  in  the  breeze,  his 
eyes  sparkled  with  bright  good-will,  and  his  lips 
parted  in  a  cheery  halloo  of  farewell. 

"  Him  nice  boy,"  repeated  Injin  Charley,  turning 
to  his  canoe. 


191 


CHAPTER   TWENTY 

THUS  Thorpe  and  the  Indian  unexpectedly 
found  themselves  in  the  possession  of  luxury. 
The  outfit  had  not  meant  much  to  Wallace  Carpen- 
ter, for  he  had  bought  it  in  the  city,  where  such 
things  are  abundant  and  excite  no  remark;  but  to 
the  woodsman  each  article  possessed  a  separate  and 
particular  value.  The  tent,  an  iron  kettle,  a  side  of 
bacon,  oatmeal,  tea,  matches,  sugar,  some  canned 
goods,  a  box  of  hard-tack — these,  in  the  woods,  rep- 
resented wealth.  Wallace's  rifle  chambered  the  .38 
Winchester  cartridge,  which  was  unfortunate,  for 
Thorpe's  .44  had  barely  a  magazineful  left. 

The  two  men  settled  again  into  their  customary 
ways  of  life.  Things  went  much  as  before,  except 
that  the  flies  and  mosquitoes  became  thick.  To  men 
as  hardened  as  Thorpe  and  the  Indian,  these  pests 
were  not  as  formidable  as  they  would  have  been  to 
any  one  directly  from  the  city,  but  they  were  suffi- 
ciently annoying.  Thorpe's  old  tin  pail  was  pressed 
into  service  as  a  smudge-kettle.  Every  evening  about 
dusk,  when  the  insects  first  began  to  emerge  from 
the  dark  swamps,  Charley  would  build  a  tiny  smoky 
fire  in  the  bottom  of  the  pail,  feeding  it  with  peat, 

102 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

damp  moss,  punk  maple,  and  other  inflammable 
smoky  fuel.  This  censer  swung  twice  or  thrice  about 
the  tent,  effectually  cleared  it.  Besides,  both  men 
early  established  on  their  cheeks  an  invulnerable 
glaze  of  a  decoction  of  pine  tar,  oil,  and  a  pungent 
herb.  Toward  the  close  of  July,  however,  the  in- 
sects began  sensibly  to  diminish,  both  in  numbers 
and  persistency. 

Up  to  the  present  Thorpe  had  enjoyed  a  clear 
field.  Now  two  men  came  down  from  above  and 
established  a  temporary  camp  in  the  woods  half  a 
mile  below  the  dam.  Thorpe  soon  satisfied  himself 
that  they  were  picking  out  a  route  for  the  logging 
Toad.  Plenty  which  could  be  cut  and  traroyed  di- 
rectly to  the  banking  ground  lay  exactly  along  the 
bank  of  the  stream;  but  every  logger  possessed  of  a 
tract  of  timber  tries  each  year  to  get  in  some  that  is 
easy  to  handle  and  some  that  is  difficult.  Thus  the 
average  of  expense  is  maintained. 

The  two  men,  of  course,  did  not  bother  them- 
selves with  the  timber  to  be  travoyed,  but  gave  their 
entire  attention  to  that  lying  farther  back.  Thorpe 
was  enabled  thus  to  avoid  them  entirely.  He  simply 
transferred  his  estimating  to  the  forest  by  the 
stream.  Once  he  met  one  of  the  men;  but  was  for- 
tunately in  a  country  that  lent  itself  to  his  pose  of 
hunter.    The  other  he  did  not  see  at  all. 

But  one  day  he  heard  him.  The  two  up-river 
men  were  following  carefully  but  noisily  the  bed  of 

193 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

a  little  creek.  Thorpe  happened  to  be  on  the  side- 
hill,  so  he  seated  himself  quietly  until  they  should 
have  moved  on  down.  One  of  the  men  shouted  to 
the  other,  who,  crashing  through  a  thicket,  did  not 
hear.  "  Ho-o-o !  Dyer !  "  the  first  repeated.  "  Here's 
that  infernal  comer;  over  here!  " 

"  Yop,"  assented  the  other.     "  Coming!  " 

Thorpe  recognized  tlie  voice  instantly  as  that  of 
Rad way's  scaler.  His  hand  crisped  in  a  gesture  of 
disgust.  The  man  had  always  been  obnoxious  to 
him. 

Two  days  later  he  stumbled  on  their  camp.  He 
paused  in  wonder  at  what  he  saw. 

The  packs  lay  open,  their  contents  scattered  in 
every  direction.  The  fire  had  been  hastily  extin- 
guished with  a  bucket  of  water,  and  a  frying  pan 
lay  where  it  had  been  overturned.  If  the  thing  had 
been  possible,  Thorpe  would  have  guessed  at  a  hasty 
and  unpremeditated  flight. 

He  was  about  to  withdraw  carefully  lest  he  be 
discovered,  when  he  was  startled  by  a  touch  on  hi? 
elbow.     It  was  Injin  Charley. 

"  Dey  go  up  river,"  he  said.  "  I  come  see  what 
de  row." 

The  Indian  examined  rapidly  the  condition  of  the 
little  camp. 

"  Dey  look  for  somethin',"  said  he,  making  his 
hand  revolve  as  though  rummaging,  and  indicating 
the  packs. 

194 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

"  I  t'ink  dey  see  you  in  de  woods,"  he  concluded. 
"  Dey  go  camp  gettum  boss.  Boss  he  gone  on  river 
trail  two  t'ree  hour." 

"  You're  right,  Charley,"  replied  Thorpe,  who 
had  been  drawing  his  own  conclusions.  "  One  of 
them  knows  me.  They've  been  looking  in  their 
packs  for  their  note-books  with  the  descriptions  of 
these  sections  in  them.  Then  they  piled  out  for  the 
boss.  If  I  know  anything  at  all,  the  boss' 11  make 
tracks  for  Detroit." 

"  Wot  you  do*?  "  asked  Injin  Charley  curiously. 

"I  got  to  get  to  Detroit  before  they  do;  that's 
all." 

Instantly  the  Indian  became  all  action. 

"  You  come,"  he  ordered,  and  set  out  at  a  rapid 
pace  for  camp. 

There,  with  incredible  deftness,  he  packed  to- 
gether about  twelve  pounds  of  the  jerked  venison 
and  a  pair  of  blankets,  thrust  Thorpe's  waterproof 
match  safe  in  his  pocket,  and  turned  eagerly  to  the 
young  man. 

"  You  come,"  he  repeated. 

Thorpe  hastily  unearthed  his  "  descriptions  %"  and 
wrapped  them  up.  The  Indian,  in  silence,  rear- 
ranged the  displaced  articles  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
relieve  the  camp  of  its  abandoned  air. 

It  was  nearly  sundown.  Without  a  word  the  two 
men  struck  off  into  the  forest,  the  Indian  in  the  lead. 
Their  course  was  southeast,  but  Thorpe  asked  no 

195 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

questions.  He  followed  blindly.  Soon  he  found 
that  if  he  did  even  that  adequately,  he  would  have 
little  attention  left  for  anything  else.  The  Indian 
walked  with  long,  swift  strides,  his  knees  always 
slightly  bent,  even  at  the  finish  of  the  step,  his  back 
hollowed,  his  shoulders  and  head  thrust  forward. 
His  gait  had  a  queer  sag  in  it,  up  and  down  in  a 
long  curve  from  one  rise  to  the  other.  After  a  time 
Thorpe  became  fascinated  in  watching  before  him 
this  easy,  untiring  lope,  hour  after  hour,  without 
the  variation  of  a  second's  fraction  in  speed  nor  an 
inch  in  length.  It  was  as  though  the  Indian  were 
made  of  steel  springs.  He  never  appeared  to  hurry ; 
but  neither  did  he  ever  rest. 

At  first  Thorpe  followed  him  with  comparative 
ease,  but  at  the  end  of  three  hours  he  was  compelled 
to  put  forth  decided  efforts  to  keep  pace.  His  walk- 
ing was  no  longer  mechanical,  but  conscious.  When 
it  becomes  so,  a  man  soon  tires.  Thorpe  resented 
the  inequalities,  the  stones,  the  roots,  the  patches  of 
soft  ground  which  lay  in  his  way.  He  felt  dully 
that  they  were  not  fair.  He  could  negotiate  the  dis- 
tance ;  but  anything  else  was  a  gratuitous  insult. 

Then  suddenly  he  gained  his  second  wind.  He 
felt  better  and  stronger  and  moved  freer.  For  sec- 
ond wind  is  only  to  a  very  small  degree  a  question  of 
the  breathing  power.  It  is  rather  the  response  of 
the  vital  forces  to  a  will  that  refuses  to  heed  their 
first  grumbling  protests.    Like  dogs  by  the  fire  they 

196 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

do  their  utmost  to  convince  their  master  that  the 
limit  of  freshness  is  reached;  but  at  last,  under  the 
whip,  spring  to  their  work. 

At  midnight  Injin  Charley  called  a  halt.  He 
spread  his  blanket,  leaned  on  one  elbow  long  enough 
to  eat  a  strip  of  dried  meat,  and  fell  asleep.  Thorpe 
imitated  his  example.  Three  hours  later  the  Indian 
roused  his  companion,  and  the  two  set  out  again. 

Thorpe  had  walked  a  leisurely  ten  days  through 
the  woods  far  to  the  north.  In  that  journey  he  had 
encountered  many  difficulties.  Sometimes  he  had 
been  tangled  for  hours  at  a  time  in  a  dense  and 
almost  impenetrable  thicket.  Again  he  had  spent 
a  half  day  in  crossing  a  treacherous  swamp.  Or 
there  had  interposed  in  his  trail  abattises  of  down 
timber  a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide  over  which  it  had 
been  necessary  to  pick  a  precarious  way  eight  or  ten/ 
feet  from  the  ground.  I 

This  journey  was  in  comparison  easy.  Most  of 
the  time  the  travellers  walked  along  high  beech 
ridges  or  through  the  hardwood  forests.  Occasion- 
ally they  were  forced  to  pass  into  the  lowlands,  but 
always  little  saving  spits  of  highland  reaching  out 
toward  each  other  abridged  the  necessary  wallow- 
ing.   Twice  they  swam  rivers. 

At  first  Thorpe  thought  this  was  because  the 
country  was  more  open ;  but  as  he  gave  better  atten- 
tion to  their  route,  he  learned  to  ascribe  it  entirely 
to  the  skill  of  his  companion.    The  Indian  seemed 

197 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

by  a  species  of  instinct  to  select  the  most  practicable 
routes.  He  seemed  to  know  how  the  land  ought  to 
lie,  so  that  he  was  never  deceived  by  appearances 
into  entering  a  cul  de  sac.  His  beech  ridges  always 
led  to  other  beech  ridges ;  his  hardwood  never  petered 
out  into  the  terrible  black  swamps.  Sometimes 
Thorpe  became  sensible  that  they  had  commenced  a 
long  detour;  but  it  was  never  an  abrupt  detour,  un- 
foreseen and  blind. 

From  three  o'clock  until  eight  they  walked  con- 
tinually without  a  pause,  without  an  instant's 
breathing  spell.  Then  they  rested  a  half  hour,  ate 
a  little  venison,  and  smoked  a  pipe. 

An  hour  after  noon  they  repeated  the  rest.  Thorpe 
rose  with  a  certain  physical  reluctance.  The  Indian 
seemed  as  fresh— or  as  tired — as  when  he  started. 
At  sunset  they  took  an  hour.  Then  forward  again 
by  the  dim  intermittent  light  of  the  moon  and  stars 
through  the  ghostly  haunted  forest,  until  Thorpe 
thought  he  would  drop  with  weariness,  and  was  men- 
tally incapable  of  contemplating  more  than  a  hun- 
dred steps  in  advance. 

"  When  I  get  to  that  square  patch  of  light,  I'll 
quit,"  he  would  say  to  himself,  and  struggle  pain- 
fully the  required  twenty  rods. 

"  No,  I  won't  quit  here,"  he  would  continue,  "  I'll 
make  it  that  birch.    Then  I'll  lie  down  and  die." 

And  so  on.  To  the  actual  physical  exhaustion  of 
Thorpe's  muscles  was  added  that  immense  menta? 

198 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

tveariness  which  uncertainty  of  the  time  and  dis- 
tance inflicts  on  a  man.  The  journey  might  last  a 
week,  for  all  he  knew.  In  the  presence  of  an 
emergency  these  men  of  action  had  actually  not  ex- 
changed a  dozen  words.  The  Indian  led;  Thorpe 
followed. 

When  the  halt  was  called,  Thorpe  fell  into  his 
blanket  too  weary  even  to  eat.  Next  morning  sharp, 
shooting  pains,  like  the  stabs  of  swords,  ran  through 
his  groin. 

"  You  come,"  repeated  the  Indian,  stolid  as  ever. 

When  the  sun  was  an  hour  high  the  travellers 
suddenly  ran  into  a  trail,  which  as  suddenly  dived 
into  a  spruce  thicket.  On  the  other  side  of  it  Thorpe 
unexpectedly  found  himself  in  an  extensive  clearing, 
dotted  with  the  blackened  stumps  of  pines.  Athwart 
the  distance  he  could  perceive  the  wide  blue  horizon 
of  Lake  Michigan.  He  had  crossed  the  Upper 
Peninsula  on  foot ! 

"  Boat  come  by  to-day,"  said  Injin  Charley,  indi- 
cating the  tall  stacks  of  a  mill.  "Him  no  stop. 
You  mak'  him  stop  take  you  with  him.  You  get 
train  Mackinaw  City  to-night.  Dose  men,  dey  on 
dat  train." 

Thorpe  calculated  rapidly.  The  enemy  would 
require,  even  with  their  teams,  a  day  to  cover  the 
thirty  miles  to  the  fishing  village  of  Munising, 
whence  the  stage  ran  each  morning  to  Seney,  the 
present  terminal  of  the  South  Shore  Railroad.    He, 

199 


THE    BLAZED    TRAIL 

Thorpe,  <m  foot  and  three  hours  behind,  could  never 
have  caught  the  stage.  But  from  Seney  only  one 
train  a  day  was  despatched  to  connect  at  Mackinaw 
City  with  the  Michigan  Central,  and  on  that  one 
train,  due  to  leave  this  very  morning,  the  up-river 
man  was  just  about  pulling  out.  He  would  arrive 
at  Mackinaw  City  at  four  o'clock  of  the  afternoon, 
where  he  would  be  forced  to  wait  until  eight  in  the 
evening.  By  catching  a  boat  at  the  mill  to  which 
Injin  Charley  had  led  him,  Thorpe  could  still  make 
the  same  train.  Thus  the  start  in  the  race  for  De* 
troit's  Land  Office  would  be  fair. 

"  All  right,"  he  cried,  all  his  energy  returning  to 
him.    "  Here  goes !    We'll  beat  him  out  yet !  *? 

"  You  come  back?  "  inquired  the  Indian,  peering 
with  a  certain  anxiety  into  his  companion's  eyes. 

"  Come  back !  "  cried  Thorpe.  "  You  bet  your 
hat!" 

"  I  wait,"  replied  the  Indian,  and  was  gone. 

"  Oh,  Charley ! "  shouted  Thorpe  in  surprise. 
"  Come  on  and  get  a  square  meal,  anyway." 

But  the  Indian  was  already  on  his  way  back  to 
the  distant  Ossawinamakee. 

Thorpe  hesitated  in  two  minds  whether  to  follow 
and  attempt  further  persuasion,  for  he  felt  keenly 
the  interest  the  other  had  displayed.  Then  he  saw, 
over  the  headland  to  the  east,  a  dense  trail  of  black 
smoke.  He  set  off  on  a  stumbling  nin  toward  the 
mill. 

too 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-ONE 

HE  arrived  out  of  breath  in  a  typical  little  mill 
town  consisting  of  the  usual  unpainted 
houses,  the  saloons,  mill,  office,  and  general  store. 
To  the  latter  he  addressed  himself  for  information. 

The  proprietor,  still  sleepy,  was  mopping  out  the 
place. 

"Does  that  boat  stop  here?"  shouted  Thorpe 
across  the  suds. 

v  Sometimes,"  replied  the  man  somnolently. 

"Not  always*?" 

"  Only  when  there's  freight  for  her." 

u  Doesn't  she  stop  for  passengers?  " 

"Nope." 

"  How  does  she  know  when  there's  freight?  " 

"  Oh,  they  signal  her  from  the  mill — "  but 
Thorpe  was  gone. 

At  the  mill  Thorpe  dove  for  the  engine  room. 
He  knew  that  elsewhere  the  clang  of  machinery  and 
the  hurry  of  business  would  leave  scant  attention  to 
him.  And  besides,  from  the  engine  room  the  signals 
would  be  given.  He  found,  as  is  often  the  case  in 
north-country  sawmills,  a  Scotchman  in  charge. 

"  Does  the  boat  stop  here  this  morning?  "  he  in- 
quired. 

201 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  Weel,"  replied  the  engineer  with  fearful  delib- 
eration, "  I  canna  say.  But  I  hae  received  na  orders 
to  that  effect." 

"  Can't  you  whistle  her  in  for  me"? "  asked 
Thorpe. 

"  I  canna,"  answered  the  engineer,  promptly 
enough  this  time. 

"  Why  not?  " 

"  Ye' re  na  what  a  body  might  call  freight." 

"  No  other  way  out  of  it?  " 

"  Na." 

Thorpe  was  seized  with  an  idea. 

"  Here !  "  he  cried.  "  See  that  boulder  over 
there"?  I  want  to  ship  that  to  Mackinaw  City  by 
freight  on  this  boat." 

The  Scotchman's  eyes  twinkled  appreciatively. 

"  I'm  dootin'  ye  hae  th'  freight-bill  from  the 
office,"  he  objected  simply. 

"  See  here,"  replied  Thorpe,  "  I've  just  got  to 
get  that  boat.  It's  worth  twenty  dollars  to  me, 
and  I'll  square  it  with  the  captain.  There's  your 
twenty." 

The  Scotchman  deliberated,  looking  aslant  at  the 
ground  and  thoughtfully  oiling  a  cylinder  with  a 
greasy  rag. 

"It'll  na  be  a  matter  of  life  and  death?"  he 
asked  hopefully.  "  She  aye  stops  for  life  and 
<ieath." 

"  No,"  replied  Thorpe  reluctantly.  Then  with 
202 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

an  explosion,  "  Yes,  by  God,  it  is !    If  I  don't  make 
'mat  boat,  I'll  kill  you" 

The  Scotchman  chuckled  and  pocketed  the  money. 
"  I'm  dootin'  that's  in  order,"  he  replied.  "  I'll  no 
be  party  to  any  such  proceedin's.  I'm  goin'  noo  for 
a  fresh  pail  of  watter,"  he  remarked,  pausing  at  the 
door,  "but  as  a  wee  item  of  information:  yander's 
th'  wheestle  rope;  and  a  mon  wheestles  one  short 
and  one  long  for  th'  boat." 

He  disappeared.  Thorpe  seized  the  cord  and  gave 
the  signal.  Then  he  ran  hastily  to  the  end  of  the 
long  lumber  docks,  and  peered  with  great  eagerness 
in  the  direction  of  the  black  smoke. 

The  steamer  was  as  yet  concealed  behind  a  low 
spit  of  land  which  ran  out  from  the  west  to  form 
one  side  of  the  harbor.  In  a  moment,  however,  her 
bows  appeared,  headed  directly  down  toward  the 
Straits  of  Mackinaw.  When  opposite  the  little  bay 
Thorpe  confidently  looked  to  see  her  turn  in,  but  to 
his  consternation  she  held  her  course.  He  began  to 
doubt  whether  his  signal  had  been  heard.  Fresh 
black  smoke  poured  from  the  funnel;  the  craft 
seemed  to  gather  speed  as  she  approached  the  east- 
ern point.  Thorpe  saw  his  hopes  sailing  away.  He 
wanted  to  stand  up  absurdly  and  wave  his  arms  to 
attract  attention  at  that  impossible  distance.  He 
wanted  to  sink  to  the  planks  in  apathy.  Finally  he 
sat  down,  and  with  dull  eyes  watched  the  distance 
widen  between  himself  and  his  aims. 

203 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

And  then  with  a  grand  free  sweep  she  turned  and 
headed  directly  for  him. 

Other  men  might  have  wept  or  shouted.  Thorpe 
merely  became  himself,  imperturbable,  command- 
ing, apparently  cold.  He  negotiated  briefly  with  the 
captain,  paid  twenty  dollars  more  for  speed  and  the 
privilege  of  landing  at  Mackinaw  City.  Then  he 
slept  for  eight  hours  on  end  and  was  awakened  in 
time  to  drop  into  a  small  boat  which  deposited  hiif, 
on  the  broad  sand  beach  of  the  lower  peninsula. 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-TWO 

THE  train  was  just  leisurely  making  up  for  de- 
parture. Thorpe,  dressed  as  he  was  in  old 
"  pepper  and  salt "  garments  patched  with  buck- 
skin, his  hat  a  flopping  travesty  on  headgear,  his 
moccasins,  worn  and  dirty,  his  face  bearded  and 
bronzed,  tried  as  much  as  possible  to  avoid  atten- 
tion. He  sent  an  instant  telegram  to  Wallace  Car- 
penter conceived  as  follows: 

"  Wire  thirty  thousand  my  order  care  Land 
Office,  Detroit,  before  nine  o'clock  to-morrow 
morning.  Do  it  if  you  have  to  rustle  all  night. 
Important." 

Then  he  took  a  seat  in  the  baggage  car  on  a  pile 
of  boxes  and  philosophically  waited  for  the  train  to 
start.  He  knew  that  sooner  or  later  the  man,  pro- 
vided he  were  on  the  train,  would  stroll  through  the 
car,  and  he  wanted  to  be  out  of  the  way.  The 
baggage  man  proved  friendly,  so  Thorpe  chatted 
with  him  until  after  bedtime.  Then  he  entered  the 
smoking  car  and  waited  patiently  for  morning. 

So  far  the  affair  had  gone  very  well.  It  had  de« 
pended  on  personal  exertions,  and  he  had  made  it 
go.    Now  he  was  forced  to  rely  on  outward  circum** 

205 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

stances.  He  argued  that  the  up-river  man  would 
have  first  to  make  his  financial  arrangements  before 
he  could  buy  in  the  land,  and  this  would  give  the 
landlooker  a  chance  to  get  in  ahead  at  the  office, 
There  would  probably  be  no  difficulty  about  that. 
The  man  suspected  nothing.  But  Thorpe  had  to 
confess  himself  fearfully  uneasy  about  his  own 
financial  arrangements.  That  was  the  rub.  Wal- 
lace Carpenter  had  been  sincere  enough  in  his  in- 
formal striking  of  partnership,  but  had  he  retained 
his  enthusiasm?  Had  second  thought  convicted  him 
of  folly?  Had  conservative  business  friends  dis- 
suaded him?  Had  the  glow  faded  in  the  reality  of 
his  accustomed  life?  And  even  if  his  good-will  re- 
mained unimpaired,  would  he  be  able,  at  such  short 
notice,  to  raise  so  large  a  sum?  Would  he  realize 
from  Thorpe's  telegram  the  absolute  necessity  of 
haste? 

At  the  last  thought,  Thorpe  decided  to  send  a 
second  message  from  the  next  station.  He  did  so. 
It  read :  "  Another  buyer  of  timber  on  same  train 
with  me.  Must  have  money  at  nine  o'clock  or  lose 
land."  He  paid  day  rates  on  it  to  insure  immediate 
delivery.  Suppose  the  boy  should  be  away  from 
home! 

Everything  depended  on  Wallace  Carpenter;  and 
Thorpe  could  not  but  confess  the  chance  slender. 
One  other  thought  made  the  night  seem  long. 
Thorpe  had  but  thirty  dollars  left. 

206 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

Morning  came  at  last,  and  the  train  drew  in  and 
stopped.  Thorpe,  being  in  the  smoking  car,  dropped 
off  first  and  stationed  himself  near  the  exit  where  he 
could  look  over  the  passengers  without  being  seen. 
They  filed  past.  Two  only  he  could  accord  the  role 
of  master  lumbermen  —  all  the  rest  were  plainly 
drummers  or  hayseeds.  And  in  these  two  Thorpe 
recognized  Daly  and  Morrison  themselves.  They 
passed  within  ten  feet  of  him,  talking  earnestly  to- 
gether. At  the  curb  they  hailed  a  cab  and  drove 
away.  Thorpe  with  satisfaction  heard  them  call  the 
name  of  a  hotel. 

It  was  still  two  hours  before  the  Land  Office 
would  be  open.  Thorpe  ate  breakfast  at  the  depot 
and  wandered  slowly  up  Jefferson  Avenue  to  Wood- 
ward, a  strange  piece  of  our  country's  medievalism 
in  modern  surroundings.  He  was  so  occupied  with 
his  own  thoughts  that  for  some  time  he  remained 
unconscious  of  the  attention  he  was  attracting. 
Then,  with  a  start,  he  felt  that  every  one  was  staring 
at  him.  The  hour  was  early,  so  that  few  besides  the 
working  classes  were  abroad,  but  he  passed  one  lady 
driving  leisurely  to  an  early  train  whose  frank 
scrutiny  brought  him  to  himself.  He  became  con- 
scious that  his  broad  hat  was  weather-soiled  and 
limp,  that  his  flannel  shirt  was  faded,  that  his  "  pep- 
per and  salt "  trousers  were  patched,  that  moccasins 
must  seem  as  anachronistic  as  chain  mail.  It 
abashed  him.     He  could  not  know  that  it  was  all 

207 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

wild  and  picturesque,  that  his  straight  and  muscular 
figure  moved  with  a  grace  quite  its  own  and  the 
woods',  that  the  bronze  of  his  skin  contrasted  splen- 
didly with  the  clearness  of  his  eye,  that  his  whole 
bearing  expressed  the  serene  power  that  comes  only 
from  the  confidence  of  battle.  The  woman  in  the 
carriage  saw  it,  however. 

"  He  is  magnificent !  "  she  cried.  "  I  thought  such 
men  had  died  with  Cooper !  " 

Thorpe  whirled  sharp  on  his  heel  and  returned  at 
once  to  a  boarding-house  off  Fort  Street,  where  he 
had  "  outfitted  "  three  months  before.  There  he 
reclaimed  his  valise,  shaved,  clothed  himself  in  linen 
and  cheviot  once  more,  and  sauntered  slowly  over  to 
the  Land  Office  to  await  its  opening. 


208 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-THREE 

AT  nine  o'clock  neither  of  the  partners  had  ap- 
peared. Thorpe  entered  the  office  and  ap- 
proached the  desk. 

"Is  there  a  telegram  here  for  Harry  Thorpe"?" 
he  inquired. 

The  clerk  to  whom  he  addressed  himself  merely 
motioned  with  his  head  toward  a  young  fellow  be- 
hind the  railing  in  a  corner.  The  latter,  without 
awaiting  the  question,  shifted  comfortably  and  re- 
plied : 

"  No." 

At  the  same  instant  steps  were  heard  in  the  cor- 
ridor, the  door  opened,  and  Mr.  Morrison  appeared 
on  the  sill.  Then  Thorpe  showed  the  stuff  of  which 
he  was  made. 

"  Is  this  the  desk  for  buying  Government  lands?  " 
he  asked  hurriedly. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  clerk. 

"  I  have  some  descriptions  I  wish  to  buy  in." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  the  clerk,  "  what  town- 
ship?" 

Thorpe  detailed  the  figures,  which  he  knew  by 
heart,  the  clerk  took  from  a  cabinet  the  three  books 

209 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

containing  them,  and  spread  them  out  on  the  coun- 
ter. At  this  moment  the  bland  voice  of  Mr.  Morri- 
son made  itself  heard  at  Thorpe's  elbow. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Smithers,"  it  said  with  the 
deliberation  of  the  consciously  great  man.  "  I  have 
a  few  descriptions  I  would  like  to  buy  in  the  north- 
ern peninsula." 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Morrison.  Archie  there 
will  attend  to  you.  Archie,  see  what  Mr.  Morrison 
wishes." 

The  lumberman  and  the  other  clerk  consulted  in 
a  low  voice,  after  which  the  official  turned  to  fumble 
among  the  records.  Not  finding  what  he  wanted,  he 
approached  Smithers.  A  whispered  consultation  en- 
sued between  these  two.     Then  Smithers  called: 

"  Take  a  seat,  Mr.  Morrison.  This  gentleman  is 
looking  over  these  townships,  and  will  have  finished 
in  a  few  minutes." 

Morrison's  eye  suddenly  became  uneasy. 

"  I  am  somewhat  busy  this  morning,"  he  objected 
with  a  shade  of  command  in  his  voice. 

"  If  this  gentleman — ?  "  suggested  the  clerk  deli- 
cately. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  put  in  Thorpe  with  brevity,  "  my 
time,  too,  is  valuable." 

Morrison  looked  at  him  sharply. 

"  My  deal  is  a  big  one,"  he  snapped.  "  I  can 
probably  arrange  with  this  gentleman  to  let  him 
have  his  farm." 

210 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

"  I  claim  precedence,"  replied  Thorpe  calmly. 

"  Well,"  said  Morrison  swift  as  light,  "  I'll  tell 
you,  Smithers.  I'll  leave  my  list  of  descriptions  and 
a  check  with  you.  Give  me  a  receipt,  and  mark  my 
lands  off  after  you've  finished  with  this  gentleman." 

Now  Government  and  State  lands  are  the  prop- 
erty of  the  man  who  pays  for  them.  Although  the 
clerk's  receipt  might  not  give  Morrison  a  valid 
claim;  nevertheless  it  would  afford  basis  for  a  law- 
suit.   Thorpe  saw  the  trap,  and  interposed. 

"  Hold  on,"  he  interrupted,  "  I  claim  precedence. 
You  can  give  no  receipt  for  any  land  in  these  town- 
ships until  after  my  business  is  transacted.  I  have 
7eason  to  believe  that  this  gentleman  and  myself  are 
both  after  the  same  descriptions." 

"  What !  "  shouted  Morrison,  assuming  surprise. 

"  You  will  have  to  await  your  turn,  Mr.  Morri- 
son," said  the  clerk,  virtuous  before  so  many  wit- 
nesses. 

The  business  man  was  in  a  white  rage  of  excite- 
ment. 

"  I  insist  on  my  application  being  filed  at  once !  " 
he  cried  waving  his  check.  "  I  have  the  money  right 
here  to  pay  for  every  acre  of  it;  and  if  I  know  the 
law,  the  first  man  to  pay  takes  the  land." 

He  slapped  the  check  down  on  the  rail,  and  hit  it 
a  number  of  times  with  the  flat  of  his  hand.  Thorpe 
turned  and  faced  him  with  a  steel  look  in  his  level 
eyes. 

211 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  Mr.  Morrison,"  he  said,  "  you  are  quite  right. 
The  first  man  who  pays  gets  the  land;  but  I  have 
won  the  first  chance  to  pay.  You  will  kindly  step 
one  side  until  I  finish  my  business  with  Mr.  Smithers 
here." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  the  amount  actually  with 
you,"  said  the  clerk,  quite  respectfully,  "  because  if 
you  have  not,  Mr.  Morrison's  claim  will  take  pre- 
cedence." 

"  I  would  hardly  have  any  business  in  a  land 
office,  if  I  did  not  know  that,"  replied  Thorpe,  and 
began  his  dictation  of  the  description  as  calmly  as 
though  his  inside  pocket  contained  the  required 
amount  in  bank  bills. 

Thorpe's  hopes  had  sunk  to  zero.  After  all,  look* 
ing  at  the  matter  dispassionately,  why  should  he  ex- 
pect Carpenter  to  trust  him,  a  stranger,  with  so  large 
a  sum?  It  had  been  madness.  Only  the  blind  con- 
fidence of  the  fighting  man  led  him  further  into  the 
struggle.  Another  would  have  given  up,  would 
have  stepped  aside  from  the  path  of  this  bona-fide 
purchaser  with  the  money  in  his  hand. 

But  Thorpe  was  of  the  kind  that  hangs  on  until 
the  last  possible  second,  not  so  much  in  the  expecta- 
tion of  winning,  as  in  sheer  reluctance  to  yield. 
Such  men  shoot  their  last  cartridge  before  surrender- 
ing, swim  the  last  ounce  of  strength  from  their  arms 
before  throwing  them  up  to  sink,  search  coolly  until 
the  latest  moment  for  a  way  from  the  burning  build- 

212 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

ing  —  and    sometimes    come    face    to    face    with 

miracles. 

Thorpe's  descriptions  were  contained  in  the  bat- 
tered little  note-book  he  had  carried  with  him  in  the 
woods.  For  each  piece  of  land  first  there  came  the 
township  described  by  latitude  and  east-and-west 
range.  After  this  generic  description  followed  an- 
other figure  representing  the  section  of  that  particu- 
lar district.  So  49  —  17  W  —  8,  meant  section  8, 
of  the  township  on  range  49  north,  17  west.  If 
Thorpe  wished  to  purchase  the  whole  section,  that 
description  would  suffice.  On  the  other  hand,  if  he 
wished  to  buy  only  one  forty,  he  described  its  posi- 
tion in  the  quarter-section.  Thus  SW  —  N W  49 
—  17  —  8,  meant  the  southwest  forty  of  the  north- 
west quarter  of  section  8  in  the  township  already 
described. 

The  clerk  marked  across  each  square  of  his  map 
as  Thorpe  read  them,  the  date  and  the  purchaser's 
name. 

In  his  note-book  Thorpe  had,  of  course,  entered 
the  briefest  description  possible.  Now,  in  dictating 
to  the  clerk,  he  conceived  the  idea  of  specifying  each 
subdivision.  This  gained  some  time.  Instead  of 
saying  simply,  "  Northwest  quarter  of  section  8," 
he  made  of  it  four  separate  descriptions,  as  fol- 
lows:— Northwest  quarter  of  northwest  quarter; 
northeast  of  northwest  quarter;  southwest  of  north- 
west quarter;  and  southeast  of  northwest  quarter. 

213 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

He  was  not  so  foolish  as  to  read  the  descriptions 
In  succession,  but  so  Scattered  them  that  the  clerk, 
putting  down  the  figures  mechanically,  had  no  idea 
of  the  amount  of  unnecessary  work  he  was  doing. 
The  minute  hands  of  the  clock  dragged  around. 
Thorpe  droned  down  the  long  column.  The  clerk 
scratched  industriously,  repeating  in  a  half  voice 
each  description  as  it  was  transcribed. 

At  length  the  task  was  finished.  It  became  neces- 
sary to  type  duplicate  lists  of  the  descriptions. 
While  the  somnolent  youth  finished  this  task, 
Thorpe  listened  for  the  messenger  boy  on  the  stairs. 

A  faint  slam  was  heard  outside  the  rickety  old 
building.  Hasty  steps  sounded  along  the  corridor. 
The  landlooker  merely  stopped  the  drumming  of  his 
fingers  on  the  broad  arm  of  the  chair.  The  door  flew 
open,  and  Wallace  Carpenter  walked  quickly  to 
him. 

Thorpe's  face  lighted  up  as  he  rose  to  greet  his 
partner.  The  boy  had  not  forgotten  their  compact 
after  all. 

"  Then  it's  all  right?  "  queried  the  latter  breath- 
lessly. 

"  Sure,"  answered  Thorpe  heartily,  "  got  'em  in 
good  shape." 

At  the  same  time  he  was  drawing  the  youth  be- 
yond the  vigilant  watchfulness  of  Mr.  Morrison. 

"  You're  just  in  time,"  he  said  in  an  undertone. 
*'  Never  had  so  close  a  squeak.     I  suppose  you  have 

214 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

cash  or  a  certified  check:  that's  all  they'll  take 
here." 

"  What  do  you  mean*?  "  asked  Carpenter  blankly. 

"Haven't  you  that  money*?"  returned  Thorpe 
quick  as  a  hawk. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  isn't  it  here?"  cried  Wal- 
lace in  consternation.  "  I  wired  Duncan,  my  banker, 
here  last  night,  and  received  a  reply  from  him.  He 
answered  that  he'd  see  to  it.  Haven't  you  seen 
him?" 

"  No,"  repeated  Thorpe  in  his  turn. 

"What  can  we  do?" 

"  Can  you  get  your  check  certified  here  near  at 
hand?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  go  do  it.  And  get  a  move  on  you.  You 
have  precisely  until  that  boy  there  finishes  clicking 
that  machine.     Not  a  second  longer." 

"  Can't  you  get  them  to  wait  a  few  minutes?  " 

"  Wallace,"  said  Thorpe,  "  do  you  see  that  white- 
whiskered  old  lynx  in  the  corner?  That's  Morrison, 
the  man  who  wants  to  get  our  land.  If  I  fail  to 
plank  down  the  cash  the  very  instant  it  is  demanded, 
he  gets  his  chance.  And  he'll  take  it.  Now,  go. 
Don't  hurry  until  you  get  beyond  the  door:  then 

fly'." 

Thorpe  sat  down  again  in  his  broad-armed  chair 
and  resumed  his  drumming.  The  nearest  bank  was 
six  blocks  away.    He  counted  over  in  his  mind  the 

215 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

steps  of  Carpenter's  progress;  now  to  the  door,  now 
in  the  next  block,  now  so  far  beyond.  He  had  just 
escorted  him  to  the  door  of  the  bank,  when  the 
clerk's  voice  broke  in  on  him. 

"  Now,"  Smithers  was  saying,  "I'll  give  you  a 
receipt  for  the  amount,  and  later  will  send  to  yom 
address  the  title  deeds  of  the  descriptions." 

Carpenter  had  yet  to  find  the  proper  official,  to 
identify  himself,  to  certify  the  check,  and  to  return. 
It  was  hopeless.  Thorpe  dropped  his  hands  in  sur- 
render. 

Then  he  saw  the  boy  lay  the  two  typed  lists  be- 
fore his  principal,  and  dimly  he  perceived  that  the 
youth,  shamefacedly,  was  holding  something  bulky 
toward  himself. 

"  Wh — what  is  it?  "  he  stammered,  drawing  his 
hand  back  as  though  from  a  red-hot  iron. 

"  You  asked  me  for  a  telegram,"  said  the  boy 
stubbornly,  as  though  trying  to  excuse  himself, 
"  and  I  didn't  just  catch  the  name,  anyway.  When 
I  saw  it  on  those  lists  I  had  to  copy,  I  thought  of 
this  here." 

"  Where'd  you  get  it"? "  asked  Thorpe  breath- 
lessly. 

"  A  fellow  came  here  early  and  left  it  for  you 
while  I  was  sweeping  out,"  explained  the  boy. 
"  Said  he  had  to  catch  a  train.  It's  yours  all  right, 
ain't  it?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Thorpe. 
216 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

He  took  the  envelope  and  walked  uncertainly  to 
the  tall  window.  He  looked  out  at  the  chimneys. 
After  a  moment  he  tore  open  the  envelope. 

"  I  hope  there's  no  bad  news,  sir*?  "  said  the  clerk, 
startled  at  the  paleness  of  the  face  Thorpe  turned  to 
the  desk. 

"  No,"  replied  the  landlooker.  "  Give  me  a  re* 
:eipt.    There's  a  certified  check  for  your  money!  " 


217 


CHAPTER    TWENTY-FOUR 

NOW  that  the  strain  was  over,  Thorpe  experi- 
enced a  great  weariness.  The  long  journey- 
through  the  forest,  his  sleepless  night  on  the  train, 
the  mental  alertness  of  playing  the  game  with 
shrewd  foes — all  these  stretched  his  fibres  out  one 
by  one  and  left  them  limp.  He  accepted  stupidly 
the  clerk's  congratulations  on  his  success,  left  the 
name  of  the  little  hotel  off  Fort  Street  as  the  address 
to  which  to  send  the  deeds,  and  dragged  himself  off 
with  infinite  fatigue  to  his  bedroom.  There  he  fell 
at  once  into  profound  unconsciousness. 

He  was  awakened  late  in  the  afternoon  by  the 
sensation  of  a  strong  pair  of  young  arms  around  his 
shoulders,  and  the  sound  of  Wallace  Carpenter's 
fresh  voice  crying  in  his  ears : 

"  Wake  up,  wake  up !  you  Indian !  You've  been 
asleep  all  day,  and  I've  been  waiting  here  all  that 
time.    I  want  to  hear  about  it.    Wake  up,  I  say !  " 

Thorpe  rolled  to  a  sitting  posture  on  the  edge  of 
the  bed,  and  smiled  uncertainly.  Then  as  the  sleep 
drained  from  his  brain,  he  reached  out  his  hand. 

"  You  bet  we  did  'em,  Wallace,"  said  he,  "  but  i* 
looked  like  a  hard  proposition  for  i  while." 

218 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

"How  was  it?  Tell  me  about  it!  "  insisted  the 
boy  eagerly.  "  You  don't  know  how  impatient  I've 
been.  The  clerk  at  the  Land  Office  merely  told  me 
it  was  all  right.    How  did  you  fix  it?  " 

While  Thorpe  washed  and  shaved  and  leisurely 
freshened  himself,  he  detailed  his  experiences  of  the 
last  week. 

"  And,"  he  concluded  gravely,  "  there's  only  one 
man  I  know  or  ever  heard  of  to  whom  I  would  have 
considered  it  worth  while  even  to  think  of  sending 
that  telegram,  and  you  are  he.  Somehow  I  knew 
you'd  come  to  the  scratch." 

"  It's  the  most  exciting  thing  I  ever  heard  of," 
sighed  Wallace  drawing  a  full  breath,  "  and  I 
wasn't  in  it!  It's  the  sort  of  thing  I  long  for.  If 
I'd  only  waited  another  two  weeks  before  coming 
down!" 

"  In  that  case  we  couldn't  have  gotten  hold  of  the 
money,  remember,"  smiled  Thorpe. 

"  That's  so."  Wallace  brightened.  "  I  did  count, 
didn't  I?" 

"  I  thought  so  about  ten  o'clock  this  morning," 
Thorpe  replied. 

"Suppose  you  hadn't  stumbled  on  their  camp; 
suppose  Injin  Charley  hadn't  seen  them  go  up-river; 
suppose  you  hadn't  struck  that  little  mill  town  just 
at  the  time  you  did !  "  marvelled  Wallace. 

"  That's  always  the  way,"  philosophized  Thorpe 
in  reply.     "  It's  the  old  story  of  '  if  the  horseshoe 

219 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

nail  hadn't  been  lost,'  you  know.  But  we  got  there; 
and  that's  the  important  thing." 

"We  did!"  cried  the  boy,  his  enthusiasm  re- 
kindling, "  and  to-night  we'll  celebrate  with  the  best 
dinner  we  can  buy  in  town !  " 

Thorpe  was  tempted,  but  remembered  the  thirty 
dollars  in  his  pocket,  and  looked  doubtful. 

Carpenter  possessed,  as  part  of  his  volatile  en- 
thusiastic temperament,  keen  intuitions. 

"  Don't  refuse !  "  he  begged.  "  I've  set  my  heart 
on  giving  my  senior  partner  a  dinner.  Surely  you 
won't  refuse  to  be  my  guest  here,  as  I  was  yours  in 
the  woods !  " 

"  Wallace,"  said  Thorpe,  "  I'll  go  you.  I'd  like 
to  dine  with  you;  but  moreover,  I'll  confess,  I  should> 
like  to  eat  a  good  dinner  again.  It's  been  more  than 
a  year  since  I've  seen  a  salad,  or  heard  of  after-din- 
ner coffee." 

"  Come  on  then,"  cried  Wallace. 

Together  they  sauntered  through  the  lengthening 
shadows  to  a  certain  small  restaurant  near  Wood- 
ward Avenue,  then  much  in  vogue  among  Detroit's 
epicures.  It  contained  only  a  half  dozen  tables,  but 
was  spotlessly  clean,  and  its  cuisine  was  unrivalled. 
A  large  fireplace  near  the  centre  of  the  room  robbed 
it  of  half  its  restaurant  air;  and  a  thick  carpet  on 
the  floor  took  the  rest.  The  walls  were  decorated  in 
dark  colors  after  the  German  style.  Several  easy 
chairs   grouped  before   the   fireplace,   and   a   ligh* 

220 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

wicker  table  heaped  with  magazines  and  papers  in- 
vited the  guests  to  lounge  while  their  orders  were 
being  prepared. 

Thorpe  was  not  in  the  least  Sybaritic  in  his  tastes, 
but  he  could  not  stifle  a  sigh  of  satisfaction  at  sink- 
ing so  naturally  into  the  unobtrusive  little  comforts 
which  the  ornamental  life  offers  to  its  votaries.  They 
rose  up  around  him  and  pillowed  him,  and  were 
grateful  to  the  tired  fibres  of  his  being.  His  remoter 
past  had  enjoyed  these  things  as  a  matter  of  course. 
They  had  framed  the  background  to  his  daily  habit. 
Now  that  the  background  had  again  slid  into  place 
on  noiseless  grooves,  Thorpe  for  the  first  time  be- 
came conscious  that  his  strenuous  life  had  indeed 
been  in  the  open  air,  and  that  the  winds  of  earnest 
endeavor,  while  bracing,  had  chilled.  Wallace  Car- 
penter, with  the  poet's  insight  and  sympathy,  saw 
and  understood  this  feeling. 

"  I  want  you  to  order  this  dinner,"  said  he,  hand- 
ing over  to  Thorpe  the  card  which  an  impossibly 
correct  waiter  presented  him.  "  And  I  want  it  a 
good  one.  I  want  you  to  begin  at  the  beginning  and 
skip  nothing.  Pretend  you  are  ordering  just  the 
dinner  you  would  like  to  offer  your  sister,"  he  sug- 
gested on  a  sudden  inspiration.  "  I  assure  you  I'll 
try  to  be  just  as  critical  and  exigent  as  she  would 
be." 

Thorpe  took  up  the  card  dreamily. 
There  are  no  oysters  and  clams  now,"  said  he, 

221 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

'1  so  we'll  pass  right  on  to  the  soup.  It  seems  to  me 
a  desecration  to  pretend  to  replace  them.  We'll 
have  a  bisque"  he  told  the  waiter,  "  rich  and 
creamy.  Then  planked  whitefish,  and  have  them 
just  a  light  crisp  brown.  You  can  bring  some  celery, 
too,  if  you  have  it  fresh  and  good.  And  for  entree 
tell  your  cook  to  make  some  macaroni  au  gratin,  but 
the  inside  must  be  soft  and  very  creamy,  and  the 
outside  very  crisp.  I  know  it's  a  queer  dish  for  a 
formal  dinner  like  ours,"  he  addressed  Wallace  with 
a  little  laugh,  "  but  it's  very,  very  good.  We'll 
have  roast  beef,  rare  and  juicy — if  you  bring  it  any 
way  but  a  cooked  red,  I'll  send  it  back — and  po- 
tatoes roasted  with  the  meat,  and  brown  gravy. 
Then  the  breast  of  chicken  with  the  salad,  in  the 
French  fashion.  And  I'll  make  the  dressing.  We'll 
have  an  ice  and  some  fruit  for  dessert.  Black 
coffee." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  waiter,  his  pencil  poised. 
"And  the  wines?" 

Thorpe  ruminated  sleepily. 

"  A  rich  red  Burgundy,"  he  decided,  "  for  all  the 
dinner.  If  your  cellar  contains  a  very  good  smooth 
Beaune,  we'll  have  that." 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  waiter,  and  departed. 

Thorpe  sat  and  gazed  moodily  into  the  wood  fire. 
Wallace  respected  his  silence.  It  was  yet  too  early 
for  the  fashionable  world,  so  the  two  friends  had 
the  place  to  themselves.     Gradually  the   twilight 

222 


THE  LANDLOORER 

fell;  strange  shadows  leaped  and  died  on  the  walh 
A  boy  dressed  all  in  white  turned  on  the  lights.  By 
and  by  the  waiter  announced  that  their  repast 
awaited  them. 

Thorpe  ate,  his  eyes  half  closed,  in  somnolent  sat- 
isfaction. Occasionally  he  smiled  contentedly  across 
at  Wallace,  who  smiled  in  response.  After  the 
coffee  he  had  the  waiter  bring  cigars.  They  went 
back  between  the  tables  to  a  little  upholstered  smok- 
ing-room, where  they  sank  into  the  depths  of  leather 
chairs,  and  blew  the  gray  clouds  of  smoke  toward 
the  ceiling.  About  nine  o'clock  Thorpe  spoke  the 
first  word. 

"  I'm  stupid  this  evening,  I'm  afraid,"  said  he, 
shaking  himself.  "  Don't  think  on  that  account  I 
am  not  enjoying  your  dinner.  I  believe,"  he  as- 
serted earnestly,  "  that  I  never  had  such  an  alto- 
gether comfortable,  happy  evening  before  in  my 
life." 

"  I  know,"  replied  Wallace  sympathetically. 

"  It  seems  just  now,"  went  on  Thorpe,  sinking 
more  luxuriously  into  his  armchair,  "  that  this  alono 
is  living — to  exist  in  an  environment  exquisitely 
toned;  to  eat,  to  drink,  to  smoke  the  best,  not  like 
a  gormand,  but  delicately  as  an  artist  would.  It  is 
the  flower  of  our  civilization." 

Wallace  remembered  the  turmoil  of  the  wilder- 
ness brook;  the  little  birch  knoll,  yellow  in  the 
evening  glow;   the  mellow   voice  of  the   summer 

223 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

night  crooning  through  the  pines.     But  he  had  the 
rare  tact  to  say  nothing. 

"  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  what  you  needed, 
when  sort  of  tired  out  this  way,"  he  said  abruptly 
after  a  moment,  "  is  a  woman  to  understand  and 
sympathize1?  Wouldn't  it  have  made  this  evening 
perfect  to  have  seen  opposite  you  a  being  whom  you 
loved,  who  understood  your  moments  of  weariness, 
as  well  as  your  moments  of  strength?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Thorpe,  stretching  his  arms  over 
his  head,  "  a  woman  would  have  talked.  It  takes  a 
friend  and  a  man  to  know  when  to  keep  silent  for 
three  straight  hours." 

The  waiter  brought  the  bill  on  a  tray,  and  Car- 
penter paid  it. 

"  Wallace,"  said  Thorpe  suddenly  after  a  long 
interval,  "  we'll  borrow  enough  by  mortgaging  our 
land  to  supply  the  working  expenses.  I  suppose 
capital  will  have  to  investigate,  and  that'll  take 
time;  but  I  can  begin  to  pick  up  a  crew  and  make 
arrangements  for  transportation  and  supplies.  You 
can  let  me  have  a  thousand  dollars  on  the  new  Com- 
pany's note  for  initial  expenses.  We'll  draw  up 
articles  of  partnership  to-morrow." 


224 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-FIVE 

NEXT  day  the  articles  of  partnership  were 
drawn;  and  Carpenter  gave  his  note  for  the 
necessary  expenses.  Then  in  answer  to  a  pencilled 
card  which  Mr.  Morrison  had  evidently  left  at 
Thorpe's  hotel  in  person,  both  young  men  called  at 
the  lumberman's  place  of  business.  They  were  ush- 
ered immediately  into  the  private  office. 

Mr.  Morrison  was  a  smart  little  man  with  an  in- 
gratiating manner  and  a  fishy  eye.  He  greeted 
Thorpe  with  marked  geniality. 

"  My  opponent  of  yesterday !  "  he  cried  jocularly. 
"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Thorpe !  Although  you  did  me 
out  of  some  land  I  had  made  every  preparation 
to  purchase,  I  can't  but  admire  your  grit  and  re- 
sourcefulness. How  did  you  get  here  ahead  of 
us?" 

"  I  walked  across  the  upper  peninsula,  and  caught 
a  boat,"  replied  Thorpe  briefly. 

"  Indeed,  indeed !  "  replied  Mr.  Morrison,  placing 
the  tips  of  his  fingers  together.  "  Extraordinary ! 
Well,  Mr.  Thorpe,  you  overreached  us  nicely;  and 
I  suppose  we  must  pay  for  our  carelessness.  We 
must  have  that  pine,  even  though  we  pay  stumpagft 

225 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

on  it.  Now  what  would  you  consider  a  fair  pric? 
for  it?" 

"  It  is  not  for  sale,"  answered  Thorpe. 

"  We'll  waive  all  that.  Of  course  it  is  to  your 
interest  to  make  difficulties  and  run  the  price  up  as 
high  as  you  can.  But  my  time  is  somewhat  occu- 
pied just  at  present,  so  I  would  be  very  glad  to  hear 
your  top  price — we  will  come  to  an  agreement  after- 
ward." 

"  You  do  not  understand  me,  Mr.  Morrison.  I 
told  you  the  pine  is  not  for  sale,  and  I  mean  it." 

"  But  surely —  What  did  you  buy  it  for,  then?  " 
cried  Mr.  Morrison,  with  evidences  of  a  growing  ex- 
citement. 

"  We  intend  to  manufacture  it." 

Mr.  Morrison's  fishy  eyes  nearly  popped  out  of 
his  head.    He  controlled  himself  with  an  effort. 

"  Mr.  Thorpe,"  said  he,  "  let  us  try  to  be  reason- 
able. Our  case  stands  this  way.  We  have  gone  to 
a  great  deal  of  expense  on  the  Ossawinamakee  in 
expectation  of  undertaking  very  extensive  operations 
there.  To  that  end  we  have  cleared  the  stream, 
built  three  dams,  and  have  laid  the  foundations  of  a 
harbor  and  boom.  This  has  been  very  expensive. 
Now  your  purchase  includes  most  of  what  we  had 
meant  to  log.  You  have,  roughly  speaking,  about 
three  hundred  millions  in  your  holding,  in  addition 
to  which  there  are  several  millions  scattering  near 
it,  which  would  pay  nobody  but  yourself  to  get  in. 

226 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

Our  holdings  are  further  up  stream,  and  comprise 
only  about  the  equal  of  yours." 

"  Three  hundred  millions  are  not  to  be  sneezed 
at,"  replied  Thorpe. 

"  Certainly  not,"  agreed  Morrison,  suavely,  gain- 
ing confidence  from  the  sound  of  his  own  voice. 
*'  Not  in  this  country.  But  you  must  remember  that 
a  man  goes  into  the  northern  peninsula  only  because 
Jie  can  get  something  better  there  than  here.  When 
the  firm  of  Morrison  &  Daly  establishes  itself  now, 
it  must  be  for  the  last  time.  We  want  enough 
timber  to  do  us  for  the  rest  of  the  time  we  are  in 
business." 

"  In  that  case,  you  will  have  to  hunt  up  another 
locality,"  replied  Thorpe  calmly. 

Morrison's  eyes  flashed.  But  he  retained  his  ap- 
pearance of  geniality,  and  appealed  to  Wallace  Car- 
penter. 

"  Then  you  will  retain  the  advantage  of  our  dams 
and  improvements,"  said  he.    "  Is  that  fair?  " 

"  No,  not  on  the  face  of  it,"  admitted  Thorpe. 
"  But  you  did  your  work  in  a  navigable  stream  for 
private  purposes,  without  the  consent  of  the  Board 
x){  Control.  Your  presence  on  the  river  is  illegal. 
You  should  have  taken  out  a  charter  as  an  Improve- 
ment Company.  Then,  as  long  as  you  'tended  to 
business  and  kept  the  concern  in  repair,  we'd  have 
paid  you  a  toll  per  thousand  feet.  As  soon  as  you 
Is  t  it  slide,  however,  the  works  would  revert  to  the 

227 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

State.  I  won't  hinder  your  doing  that  yet;  although 
I  might.  Take  out  your  charter  and  fix  your  rate 
of  toll." 

"  In  other  words,  you  force  us  to  stay  there  and 
run  a  little  two-by-four  Improvement  Company  for 
your  benefit,  or  else  lose  the  value  of  our  improve- 
ments?" 

"  Suit  yourself,"  answered  Thorpe  carelessly. 
"  You  can  always  log  your  present  holdings." 

"  Very  well,"  cried  Morrison,  so  suddenly  in  a 
passion  that  Wallace  started  back.  "It's  war! 
And  let  me  tell  you  this,  young  man;  you're  a  new 
concern  and  we're  an  old  one.  We'll  crush  you  like 
that !  "  He  crisped  an  envelope  vindictively,  and 
threw  it  in  the  waste-basket. 

"  Crush  ahead,"  replied  Thorpe  with  great  good 
humor.  "  Good-day,  Mr.  Morrison,"  and  the  two 
went  out. 

Wallace  was  sputtering  and  trembling  with 
nervous  excitement.  His  was  one  of  those  tempera- 
ments which  require  action  to  relieve  the  stress  of  a 
stormy  interview.  He  was  brave  enough,  but  he 
would  always  tremble  in  the  presence  of  danger 
until  the  moment  for  striking  arrived.  He  wanted 
to  do  something  at  once. 

"  Hadn't  we  better  see  a  lawyer? "  he  asked. 
"  Oughtn't  we  to  look  out  that  they  don't  take  some 
of  our  pine?    Oughtn't  we " 

"  You  just  leave  all  that  to  me,"  replied  Thorpe, 
228 


THE  LANDLOOKER 

"The  first  thing  we  want  to  do  is  to  rustle  some 
money." 

"  And  you  can  leave  that  to  me"  echoed  Wal- 
lace. "  I  know  a  little  of  such  things,  and  I  have 
business  connections  who  know  more.  You  just  get 
the  camp  running." 

"I'll  start  for  Bay  City  to-night,"  submitted 
Thorpe.  "  There  ought  to  be  a  good  lot  of  lumber- 
jacks lying  around  idle  at  this  time  of  year;  and  it's 
a  good  place  to  outfit  from  because  we  can  probably 
get  freight  rates  direct  by  boat.  We'll  be  a  little 
late  in  starting,  but  we'll  get  in  some  logs  this 
winter,  anyway." 


229 


PART    III 

THE   BLAZING   OF   THE   TRAIL 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-SIX 

A  LUMBERING  town  after  the  drive  is  a  fear- 
ful thing.  Men  just  off  the  river  draw  a 
deep  breath,  and  plunge  into  the  wildest  reactionary- 
dissipation.  In  droves  they  invade  the  cities — wild, 
picturesque,  lawless.  As  long  as  the  money  lasts, 
they  blow  it  in. 

"  Hot  money !  "  is  the  cry.  "  She's  burnt  holes 
in  all  my  pockets  already !  " 

The  saloons  are  full,  the  gambling  houses  over- 
flow, all  the  places  of  amusement  or  crime  run  full 
blast.  A  chip  rests  lightly  on  every  one's  shoulder. 
Fights  are  as  common  as  raspberries  in  August. 
Often  one  of  these  formidable  men,  his  muscles 
toughened  and  quickened  by  the  active,  strenuous 
river  work,  will  set  out  to  "  take  the  town  apart." 
For  a  time  he  leaves  rack  and  ruin,  black  eyes  and 
broken  teeth  behind  him,  until  he  meets  a  more  re- 
doubtable "  knocker "  and  is  pounded  and  kicked 
into  unconsciousness.  Organized  gangs  go  from 
house  to  house  forcing  the  peaceful  inmates  to  drink 
from  their  bottles.  Others  take  possession  of  certain 
sections  of  the  street  and  resist  a  Voutrance  the  at- 
tempts of  others  to  pass.     Inoffensive  citizens  are 

233 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

stood  on  their  heads,  or  shaken  upside  down  until 
the  contents  of  their  pockets  rattle  on  the  street. 
Parenthetically,  these  contents  are  invariably  re- 
turned to  their  owners.  The  riverman's  object  is 
fun,  not  robbery. 

And  if  rip-roaring,  swashbuckling,  drunken  glory 
is  what  he  is  after,  he  gets  it.  The  only  trouble  is, 
that  a  whole  winter's  hard  work  goes  in  two  or  three 
weeks.  The  only  redeeming  feature  is,  that  he  is 
never,  in  or  out  of  his  cups,  afraid  of  anything  that 
walks  the  earth. 

A  man  comes  out  of  the  woods  or  off  the  drive 
with  two  or  three  hundred  dollars,  which  he  is  only 
too  anxious  to  throw  away  by  the  double  handful. 
It  follows  naturally  that  a  crew  of  sharpers  are  on 
hand  to  find  out  who  gets  it.  They  are  a  hard  lot. 
Bold,  unprincipled  mexi,  they  too  are  afraid  of  noth- 
ing; not  even  a  drunken  lumber-jack,  which  is  one 
of  the  dangerous  wild  animals  of  the  American 
fauna.  Their  business  is  to  relieve  the  man  of  his 
money  as  soon  as  possible.  They  are  experts  at 
their  business. 

The  towns  of  Bay  City  and  Saginaw  alone  in 
1878  supported  over  fourteen  hundred  tough  char- 
acters. Block  after  block  was  devoted  entirely  to 
saloons.  In  a  radius  of  three  hundred  feet  from  the 
famous  old  Catacombs  could  be  numbered  forty 
saloons,  where  drinks  were  sold  by  from  three  to  ten 
"  pretty  waiter  girls."    When  the  boys  struck  town, 

234 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

the  proprietors  and  waitresses  stood  in  their  door- 
ways to  welcome  them. 

"Why,  Jack!  "  one  would  cry,  "when  did  you 
drift  in?  Tickled  to  death  to  see  you!  Come  in  an* 
have  a  drink.  That  your  chum?  Come  in,  old  man, 
and  have  a  drink.  Never  mind  the  pay;  that's  all 
right." 

And  after  the  first  drink,  Jack,  of  course,  had  to 
treat,  and  then  the  chum. 

Or  if  Jack  resisted  temptation  and  walked  reso- 
lutely on,  one  of  the  girls  would  remark  audibly  to 
another : 

"He  ain't  no  lumber-jack!  You  can  see  that 
easy  'nuff !    He's  jest  off  th'  hay-trail !  " 

Ten  to  one  that  brought  him,  for  the  woodsman 
is  above  all  things  proud  and  jealous  of  his  craft. 

In  the  centre  of  this  whirlpool  of  iniquity  stood 
the  Catacombs  as  the  hub  from  which  lesser  spokes 
in  the  wheel  radiated.  Any  old  logger  of  the  Sagi- 
naw Valley  can  tell  you  of  the  Catacombs,  just  as 
any  old  logger  of  any  other  valley  will  tell  you  of 
the  "  Pen,"  the  "  White  Row,"  the  "  Water 
Streets  "  of  Alpena,  Port  Huron,  Ludington,  Mus- 
kegon, and  a  dozen  other  lumber  towns. 

The  Catacombs  was  a  three-story  building.  In 
the  basement  were  vile,  ill-smelling,  ill-lighted  dens, 
small,  isolated,  dangerous.  The  shanty  boy  with  a 
small  stake,  far  gone  in  drunkenness,  there  tasted  the 
last  drop  of  wickedness,  and  thence  was  flung  uncon- 

235 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

scious  and  penniless  on  the  streets.  A  trap-door 
directly  into  the  river  accommodated  those  who  were 
inconsiderate  enough  to  succumb  under  rough  treat- 
ment. 

The  second  story  was  given  over  to  drinking. 
Polly  Dickson  there  reigned  supreme,  an  anomaly. 
She  was  as  pretty  and  fresh  and  pure-looking  as  a 
child;  and  at  the  same  time  was  one  of  the  most 
ruthless  and  unscrupulous  of  the  gang.  She  could 
at  will  exercise  a  fascination  the  more  terrible  in 
that  it  appealed  at  once  to  her  victim's  nobler  in- 
stincts of  reverence,  his  capacity  for  what  might  be 
called  aesthetic  fascination,  as  well  as  his  passions. 
When  she  finally  held  him,  she  crushed  him  as 
calmly  as  she  would  a  fly. 

Four  bars  supplied  the  drinkables.  Dozens  of 
"  pretty  waiter  girls "  served  the  customers.  A 
force  of  professional  fighters  was  maintained  by  the 
establishment  to  preserve  that  degree  of  peace  which 
should  look  to  the  preservation  of  mirrors  and  glass- 
ware. 

The  third  story  contained  a  dance  hall  and  a 
theatre.  The  character  of  both  would  better  be  left 
to  the  imagination. 

Night  after  night  during  the  season,  this  den  ran 
at  top-steam. 

By  midnight,  when  the  orgy  was  at  its  height,  the 
windows  brilliantly  illuminated,  the  various  bursts 
of  music,  laughing,  cursing,  singing,  shouting,  fight- 

236 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

ing,  breaking  in  turn  or  all  together  from  its  open 
windows,  it  was,  as  Jackson  Hines  once  expressed 
it  to  me,  like  hell  let  out  for  noon. 

The  respectable  elements  of  the  towns  were 
powerless.  They  could  not  control  the  elections. 
Their  police  would  only  have  risked  total  annihila- 
tion by  attempting  a  raid.  At  the  first  sign  of 
trouble  they  walked  straightly  in  the  paths  of  their 
own  affairs,  awaiting  the  time  soon  to  come  when, 
his  stake  "  blown-in,"  the  last  bitter  dregs  of  his 
pleasure  gulped  down,  the  shanty  boy  would  again 
start  for  the  woods. 


237 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-SEVEN 

NOW  in  August,  however,  the  first  turmoil  had 
died.  The  "  jam "  had  boiled  into  town, 
"  taken  it  apart,"  and  left  the  inhabitants  to  piece 
it  together  again  as  they  could;  the  "  rear  "  had  not 
yet  arrived.  As  a  consequence,  Thorpe  found  the 
city  comparatively  quiet. 

Here  and  there  swaggered  a  strapping  riverman, 
his  small  felt  hat  cocked  aggressively  over  one  eye, 
its  brim  curled  up  behind;  a  cigar  stump  protruding 
at  an  angle  from  beneath  his  sweeping  mustache; 
his  hands  thrust  into  the  pockets  of  his  trousers, 
"  stagged  "  off  at  the  knee ;  the  spikes  of  his  river 
boots  cutting  little  triangular  pieces  from  the  wooden 
sidewalk.  His  eye  was  aggressively  humorous,  and 
the  smile  of  his  face  was  a  challenge. 

For  in  the  last  month  he  had  faced  almost  certain 
death  a  dozen  times  a  day.  He  had  ridden  logs 
down  the  rapids  where  a  loss  of  balance  meant  in 
one  instant  a  ducking  and  in  the  next  a  blow  on  the 
back  from  some  following  battering-ram;  he  had 
tugged  and  strained  and  jerked  with  his  peavey 
under  a  sheer  wall  of  tangled  timber  twenty  feet 
high — behind  which  pressed  the  full  power  of  the 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

freshet — only  to  jump  with  the  agility  of  a  cat  from 
one  bit  of  unstable  footing  to  another  when  the  first 
sharp  crack  warned  him  that  he  had  done  his  work, 
and  that  the  whole  mass  was  about  to  break  down 
on  him  like  a  wave  on  the  shore;  he  had  worked 
fourteen  hours  a  day  in  ice-water,  and  had  slept 
damp;  he  had  pried  at  the  key  log  in  the  rollways 
on  the  bank  until  the  whole  pile  had  begun  to  rattle 
down  into  the  river  like  a  cascade,  and  had  jumped, 
or  ridden,  or  even  dived  out  of  danger  at  the  last 
second.  In  a  hundred  passes  he  had  juggled  with 
death  as  a  child  plays  with  a  rubber  balloon.  No 
wonder  that  he  has  brought  to  the  town  and  his  vices 
a  little  of  the  lofty  bearing  of  an  heroic  age.  No 
wonder  that  he  fears  no  man,  since  nature's  most 
terrible  forces  of  the  flood  have  hurled  a  thousand 
weapons  at  him  in  vain.  His  muscles  have  been 
hardened,  his  eye  is  quiet  and  sure,  his  courage  is 
undaunted,  and  his  movements  are  as  quick  and 
accurate  as  a  panther's.  Probably  nowhere  in  the 
world  is  a  more  dangerous  man  of  his  hands  than 
the  riverman.  He  would  rather  fight  than  eat,  espe- 
cially when  he  is  drunk,  as,  like  the  cowboy,  he 
usually  is  when  he  gets  into  town.  A  history  could 
be  written  of  the  feuds,  the  wars,  the  raids  instituted 
by  one  camp  or  one  town  against  another. 

The  men  would  go  in  force  sometimes  to  another 
city  with  the  avowed  purpose  of  cleaning  it  out. 
One  battle  I  know  of  lasted  nearly  all  night.  Deadly 

239 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

weapons  were  almost  never  resorted  to,  unless  in* 
deed  a  hundred  and  eighty  pounds  of  muscle  behind 
a  fist  hard  as  iron  might  be  considered  a  deadly 
weapon.  A  man  hard  pressed  by  numbers  often 
resorted  to  a  billiard  cue,  or  an  axe,  or  anything  else 
that  happened  to  be  handy,  but  that  was  an  expedi- 
ent called  out  by  necessity.  Knives  or  six-shooters 
implied  a  certain  premeditation  which  was  discoun- 
tenanced. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  code  of  fair  fighting  ob- 
tained hardly  at  all.  The  long  spikes  of  river-boots 
made  an  admirable  weapon  in  the  straight  kick.  I 
have  seen  men  whose  faces  were  punctured  as  thickly 
as  though  by  smallpox,  where  the  steel  points  had 
penetrated.  In  a  free-for-all  knock-down-and-drag- 
out,  kicking,  gouging,  and  biting  are  all  legitimate. 
Anything  to  injure  the  other  man,  provided  always 
you  do  not  knife  him.  And  when  you  take  a  half 
dozen  of  these  enduring,  active,  muscular,  and  fiery 
men,  not  one  entertaining  in  his  innermost  heart  the 
faintest  hesitation  or  fear,  and  set  them  at  each 
other  with  the  lightning  tirelessness  of  so  many  wild- 
cats, you  get  as  hard  a  fight  as  you  could  desire. 
And  they  seem  to  like  it. 

One  old  fellow,  a  good  deal  of  a  character  in  his 
way,  used  to  be  on  the  "  drive  "  for  a  firm  lumber- 
ing near  Six  Lakes.  He  was  intensely  loyal  to  his 
"  Old  Fellows,"  and  every  time  he  got  a  little 
"  budge  "  in  him    he  instituted  a  raid  on  the  town 

240 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

owned  by  a  rival  firm.  So  frequent  and  so  severe 
did  these  battles  become  that  finally  the  men  were 
informed  that  another  such  expedition  would  mean 
instant  discharge.  The  rule  had  its  effect.  The 
raids  ceased. 

But  one  day  old  Dan  visited  the  saloon  once  too 
often.  He  became  very  warlike.  The  other  men 
merely  laughed,  for  they  were  strong  enough  them- 
selves to  recognize  firmness  in  others,  and  it  never 
occurred  to  them  that  they  could  disobey  so  absolute 
a  command.    So  finally  Dan  started  out  quite  alone. 

He  invaded  the  enemy's  camp,  attempted  to  clean 
out  the  saloon  with  a  billiard  cue  single-handed,  was 
knocked  down,  and  would  have  been  kicked  to  death 
as  he  lay  on  the  floor  if  he  had  not  succeeded  in 
rolling  under  the  billiard  table  where  the  men's  boots 
could  not  reach  him.  As  it  was,  his  clothes  were 
literally  torn  to  ribbons,  one  eye  was  blacked,  his 
nose  broken,  one  ear  hung  to  its  place  by  a  mere 
shred  of  skin,  and  his  face  and  flesh  were  ripped  and 
torn  everywhere  by  the  "  corks  "  on  the  boots.  Any 
but  a  riverman  would  have  qualified  for  the  hos- 
pital. Dan  rolled  to  the  other  side  of  the  table, 
made  a  sudden  break,  and  escaped. 

But  his  fighting  blood  was  not  all  spilled.  He 
raided  the  butcher-shop,  seized  the  big  carving  knife, 
and  returned  to  the  battlefield. 

The  "".nemy  decamped — rapidly — some  of  them 
through  the  window.     Dan  managed  to  get  in  buf 

241 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

one  blow.  He  ripped  the  coat  down  the  man's  back 
as  neatly  as  though  it  had  been  done  with  shears, 
one  clean  straight  cut  from  collar  to  bottom  seam. 
A  quarter  of  an  inch  nearer  would  have  split  the 
fellow's  backbone.  As  it  was,  he  escaped  without 
even  a  scratch. 

Dan  commandered  two  bottles  of  whiskey,  and, 
gory  and  wounded  as  he  was,  took  up  the  six-mile 
tramp  home,  bearing  the  knife  over  his  shoulder  as  a 
banner  of  triumph. 

Next  morning,  weak  from  the  combined  effects  of 
war  and  whiskey,  he  reported  to  headquarters. 

"  What  is  it,  Dan?  "  asked  the  Old  Fellow  with- 
out turning. 

"  I  come  to  get  my  time,"  replied  the  riverman 
humbly. 

"  What  for?  "  inquired  the  lumberman. 

"  I  have  been  over  to  Howard  City,"  confessed 
Dan. 

The  owner  turned  and  looked  him  over. 

"  They  sort  of  got  ahead  of  me  a  little,"  ex- 
plained Dan  sheepishly. 

The  lumberman  took  stock  of  the  old  man's  cuts 
and  bruises,  and  turned  away  to  hide  a  smile. 

"  I  guess  I'll  let  you  off  this  trip,"  said  he.  "  Go 
to  work — when  you  can.  I  don't  believe  you'll  go 
back  there  again." 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Dan  humbly. 

And  so  the  life  of  alternate  work  and  pleasure. 
242 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

both  full  of  personal  danger,  develops  in  time  a 
class  of  men  whose  like  is  to  be  found  only  among 
the  cowboys,  scouts,  trappers,  and  Indian  fighters  of 
our  other  frontiers.  The  moralists  will  always  hold 
up  the  hands  of  horror  at  such  types ;  the  philosopher 
will  admire  them  as  the  last  incarnation  of  the 
heroic  age,  when  the  man  is  bigger  than  his  work. 
Soon  the  factories,  the  machines,  the  mechanical 
structures  and  constructions,  the  various  branches  of 
co-operation  will  produce  quasi-automatically  insti- 
tutions evidently  more  important  than  the  genius  or 
force  of  any  one  human  being.  The  personal  element 
{will  have  become  nearly  eliminated.  In  the  woods 
|  and  on  the  frontier  still  are  many  whose  powers  are 
greatei  than  their  works;  whose  fame  is  greater  than 
their  deeds.  They  are  men,  powerful,  virile,  even 
brutal  at  times,  but  magnificent  with  the  strength 
of  courage  and  resource. 

All  this  may  seem  a  digression  from  the  thread  of 
our  tale,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  necessary  that 
you  understand  the  conditions  of  the  time  and  place 
in  which  Harry  Thorpe  had  set  himself  the  duty  of 
success. 

He  had  seen  too  much  of  incompetent  labor  to  be 
satisfied  with  anything  but  the  best.  Although  his 
ideas  were  hot  as  yet  formulated,  he  hoped  to  be 
able  to  pick  up  a  crew  of  first-class  men  from  those 
who  had  come  down  with  the  advance,  or  "  jam," 
of  the  spring's  drive.     They  should  have  finished 

243 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

their  orgies  by  now,  and,  empty  of  pocket,  should  be 
found  hanging  about  the  boarding-houses  and  the 
quieter  saloons.  Thorpe  intended  to  offer  good 
wages  for  good  men.  He  would  not  need  more  than 
twenty  at  first,  for  during  the  approaching  winter 
he  purposed  to  log  on  a  very  small  scale  indeed. 
The  time  for  expansion  would  come  later. 

With  this  object  in  view  he  set  out  from  his  hotel 
about  half-past  seven  on  the  day  of  his  arrival,  to 
cruise  about  in  the  lumber-jack  district  already 
described.  The  hotel  clerk  had  obligingly  given  him 
the  names  of  a  number  of  the  quieter  saloons,  where 
the  boys  "  hung  out "  between  bursts  of  prosperity. 
In  the  first  of  these  Thorpe  was  helped  materially 
in  his  vague  and  uncertain  quest  by  encountering  an 
old  acquaintance. 

From  the  sidewalk  he  heard  the  vigorous  sounds 
of  a  one-sided  altercation  punctuated  by  frequent 
bursts  of  quickly  silenced  laughter.  Evidently  some 
one  was  very  angry,  and  the  rest  amused.  After  a 
moment  Thorpe  imagined  he  recognized  the  excited 
voice.  So  he  pushed  open  the  swinging  screen  door 
and  entered. 

The  place  was  typical.  Across  one  side  ran  the 
hardwood  bar  with  foot-rest  and  little  towels  hung 
in  metal  clasps  under  its  edge.  Behind  it  was  a  long 
mirror,  a  symmetrical  pile  of  glasses,  a  number  of 
plain  or  ornamental  bottles,  and  a  miniature  keg  or 
so  of  porcelain  containing  the  finer  whiskeys  and 

244 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

brandies.  The  barkeeper  drew  beer  from  two  pumps 
immediately  in  front  of  him,  and  rinsed  glasses  in 
some  sort  of  a  sink  under  the  edge  of  the  bar.  The 
centre  of  the  room  was  occupied  by  a  tremendous 
stove  capable  of  burning  whole  logs  of  cordwood. 
A  stovepipe  led  from  the  stove  here  and  there  in 
wire  suspension  to  a  final  exit  near  the  other  corner. 
On  the  wall  were  two  sporting  chromos,  and  a  good 
variety  of  lithographed  calendars  and  illuminated 
tin  signs  advertising  beers  and  spirits.  The  floor 
was  liberally  sprinkled  with  damp  sawdust,  and  was 
occupied,  besides  the  stove,  by  a  number  of  wooden 
chairs  and  a  single  round  table. 

The  latter,  a  clumsy  heavy  affair  beyond  the 
strength  of  an  ordinary  man,  was  being  deftly  inter- 
posed between  himself  and  the  attacks  of  the  pos- 
sessor of  the  angry  voice  by  a  gigantic  young  river- 
man  in  the  conventional  stagged  (Le.,  chopped  off) 
trousers,  "  cork  "  shoes,  and  broad  belt  typical  of 
his  craft.  In  the  aggressor  Thorpe  recognized  old 
Jackson  Hines. 

"  Damn  you !  "  cried  the  old  man,  qualifying  the 
oath,  "  let  me  get  at  you,  you  great  big  sock-stealer, 
I'll  make  you  hop  high !  I'll  snatch  you  bald-headed 
so  quick  that  you'll  think  you  never  had  any  hair!  " 

"  I'll  settle  with  you  in  the  morning,  Jackson,'* 
laughed  the  riverman. 

"  You  want  to  eat  a  good  breakfast,  then,  because 
you  won't  have  no  appetite  for  dinner." 

245 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

The  men  roared,  with  encouraging  calls.  The 
riverman  put  on  a  ludicrous  appearance  of  offended 
dignity. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  swell  up  like  a  poisoned  pup!  " 
cried  old  Jackson  plaintively,  ceasing  his  attacks 
from  sheer  weariness.  "  You  know  you're  as  safe 
as  a  cow  tied  to  a  brick  wall  behind  that  table." 

Thorpe  seized  the  opportunity  to  approach. 

"  Hello,  Jackson,"  said  he. 

The  old  man  peered  at  him  out  of  the  blur  of  his 
excitement. 

"  Don't  you  know  me?  "  inquired  Thorpe. 

"  Them  lamps  gives  'bout  as  much  light  as  a  piece 
of  chalk,"  complained  Jackson  testily.  "  Knows 
you1?  You  bet  I  do!  How  are  you,  Harry?  Where 
you  been  keepin'  yourself?  You  look  'bout  as  fat 
as  a  stall-fed  knittin'  needle." 

"  I've  been  landlooking  in  the  upper  peninsula," 
explained  Thorpe,  "  on  the  Ossawinamakee,  up  in 
the  Marquette  country." 

"  Sho' !  "  commented  Jackson  in  wonder,  "  way 
up  there  where  the  moon  changes !  " 

"It's  a  fine  country,"  went  on  Thorpe  so  every 
one  could  hear,  "  with  a  great  cutting  of  white  pine. 
It  runs  as  high  as  twelve  hundred  thousand  to  the 
forty  sometimes." 

"  Trees  clean  an'  free  of  limbs?  "  asked  Jackson. 

"They're  as  good  as  the  stuff  over  on  seventeen; 
you  remember  that." 

246 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

"  Clean  as  a  baby's  leg,"  agreed  Jackson. 

"  Have  a  glass  of  beer?  "  asked  Thorpe. 

"  Dry  as  a  tobacco  box,"  confessed  Hines. 

"Have  something,  the  rest  of  you1?"  invited 
Thorpe. 

So  they  all  drank. 

On  a  sudden  inspiration  Thorpe  resolved  to  ask 
tiie  old  man's  advice  as  to  crew  and  horses.  It  might 
not  be  good  for  much,  but  it  would  do  no  harm. 

Jar.kson  listened  attentively  to  the  other's  brief 
recital. 

"  Why  don't  you  see  Tim  Shearer"?  He  ain't 
doin'  nothin'  since  the  jam  came  down,"  was  his 
comment. 

"Isn't  he  with  the  M.  &  D.  people?"  asked 
Thorpe. 

"  Nope.    Quit." 

"  How's  that?  " 

"  'Count  of  Morrison.  Morrison  he  comes  up  to 
run  things  some.  He  does.  Tim  he's  getting  the 
drive  in  shape,  and  he  don't  want  to  be  bothered, 
but  old  Morrison  he's  as  busy  as  hell  beatin'  tan- 
bark.  Finally  Tim,  he  calls  him.  "  '  Look  here, 
Mr.  Morrison,'  says  he,  '  I'm  runnin'  this  drive.  If 
I  don't  get  her  there,  all  right;  you  can  give  me  my 
time.     'Till  then  you  ain't  got  nothin'  to  say.' 

"  Well,  that  makes  the  Old  Fellow  as  sore  as  a 
scalded  pup.  He's  used  to  bossin'  clerks  and  such 
things,  and  don't  have  much  of  an  idea  of  lumber- 

247 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

jacks.  He  has  big  ideas  of  respect,  so  he  '  calls ' 
Tim  dignified  like. 

"  Tim  didn't  hit  him;  but  I  guess  he  felt  like  th* 
man  who  met  the  bear  without  any  weapon — even 
a  newspaper  would  'a'  come  handy.  He  hands  in 
his  time  t'  once  and  quits.  Sence  then  he's  been  as 
mad  as  a  bar-keep  with  a  lead  quarter,  which  ain't 
usual  for  Tim.  He's  been  filin'  his  teeth  for  M.  & 
D.  right  along.    Somethin's  behind  it  all,  I  reckon." 

"Where'll  I  find  him?"  asked  Thorpe. 

Jacksor  gave  the  name  of  a  small  boarding-house. 
Shortly  after,  Thorpe  left  him  to  amuse  the  other? 
with  his  unique  conversation,  and  hunted  up  Shear» 
er's  stopping-place. 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-EIGHT 

THE  boarding-house  proved  to  be  of  the  typical 
lumber-jack  class — a  narrow  "  stoop,"  a  hall- 
way and  stairs  in  the  centre,  and  an  office  and  bar 
on  either  side.  Shearer  and  a  half  dozen  other  men 
about  his  own  age  sat,  their  chairs  on  two  legs  and 
their  "  cork "  boots  on  the  rounds  of  the  chairs, 
smoking  placidly  in  the  tepid  evening  air.  The 
light  came  from  inside  the  building,  so  that  while 
Thorpe  was  in  plain  view,  he  could  not  make  out 
which  of  the  dark  figures  on  the  piazza  was  the  man 
he  wanted.  He  approached,  and  attempted  an  iden- 
tifying scrutiny.  The  men,  with  the  taciturnity  of 
their  class  in  the  presence  of  a  stranger,  said  nothing. 

"  Well,  bub,"  finally  drawled  a  voice  from  the 
corner,  "  bio  wed  that  stake  you  made  out  of  Rad- 
way,  yet?  " 

"  That  you,  Shearer*?  "  inquired  Thorpe  advanc- 
ing.   "  You're  the  man  I'm  looking  for." 

"  You've  found  me,"  replied  the  old  man  dryly. 

Thorpe  was  requested  elaborately  to  "  shake 
hands  "  with  the  owners  of  six  names.  Then  he 
had  a  chance  to  intimate  quietly  to  Shearer  that  he 
wanted  a  word  with  him  alone.  The  riverman  rose 
silently  and  led  the  way  up  the  straight,  uncarpeted 

249 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

stairs,  a!ong  a  narrow,  uncarpeted  hall,  to  a  square, 
uncarpeted  bedroom.  The  walls  and  ceiling  of  this 
apartment  were  of  unpainted  planed  pine.  It  con- 
tained a  cheap  bureau,  one  chair,  and  a  bed  and 
washstand  to  match  the  bureau.  Shearer  lit  the 
lamp  and  sat  on  the  bed. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"  I  have  a  little  pine  up  in  the  northern  peninsula 
within  walking  distance  of  Marquette,"  said  Thorpe, 
"  and  I  want  to  get  a  crew  of  about  twenty  men.  It 
occurred  to  me  that  you  might  be  willing  to  help 
me. 

The  riverman  frowned  steadily  at  his  interlocutor 
from  under  his  bushy  brows. 

"  How  much  pine  you  got"?  "  he  asked  finally. 

"  About  three  hundred  millions,"  replied  Thorpe 
quietly. 

The  old  man's  blue  eyes  fixed  themselves  with 
unwavering  steadiness  on  Thorpe's  face. 

"You're  jobbing  some  of  it,  eh*?"  he  submitted 
finally  as  the  only  probable  conclusion.  "  Do  you 
think  you  know  enough  about  it*?  Who  does  it  be- 
long to?" 

"  It  belongs  to  a  man  named  Carpenter  and  my- 
self." 

The  riverman  pondered  this  slowly  for  an  ap- 
preciable interval,  and  then  shot  out  another  ques« 
tion. 

"How'd  you  get  it?" 

250 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

Thorpe  told  him  simply,  omitting  nothing  except 
the  name  of  the  firm  up-river.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished, Shearer  evinced  no  astonishment  nor  approval. 

"  You  done  well,"  he  commented  finally.  Then 
after  another  interval: 

"  Have  you  found  out  who  was  the  men  stealin' 
the  pine?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Thorpe  quietly,  "  it  was  Morrison 
&  Daly." 

The  old  man  flickered  not  an  eyelid.  He  slowly 
filled  his  pipe  and  lit  it. 

"  I'll  get  you  a  crew  of  men,"  said  he,  "  if  you'll 
take  me  as  foreman." 

"  But  it's  a  little  job  at  first,"  protested  Thorpe. 
"  I  only  want  a  camp  of  twenty.  It  wouldn't  be 
worth  your  while." 

"That's  my  look-out.  I'll  take  th'  job,"  replied 
the  logger  grimly.  "  You  got  three  hundred  million 
there,  ain't  you1?  And  you're  goin'  to  cut  it?  It 
ain't  such  a  small  job." 

Thorpe  could  hardly  believe  his  good-fortune  in 
having  gained  so  important  a  recruit.  With  a  prac- 
tical man  as  foreman,  his  mind  would  be  relieved  of 
a  great  deal  of  worry  over  unfamiliar  detail.  He 
saw  at  once  that  he  would  himself  be  able  to  per- 
form all  the  duties  of  scaler,  keep  in  touch  with  the 
needs  of  the  camp,  and  supervise  the  campaign. 
Nevertheless  he  answered  the  older  man's  glance 
with  one  as  keen,  and  said: 

251 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  Look  here,  Shearer,  if  you  take  this  job,  we  may 
as  well  understand  each  other  at  the  start.  This  is 
going  to  be  my  camp,  and  I'm  going  to  be  boss.  I 
don't  know  much  about  logging,  and  I  shall  want 
you  to  take  charge  of  all  that,  but  I  shall  want  to 
know  just  why  you  do  each  thing,  and  if  my  judg- 
ment advises  otherwise,  my  judgment  goes.  If  I 
want  to  discharge  a  man,  he  walks  without  any 
question.  I  know  about  what  I  shall  expect  of  each 
man;  and  I  intend  to  get  it  out  of  him.  And  in 
questions  of  policy  mine  is  the  say-so  every  trip. 
Now  I  know  you're  a  good  man — one  of  the  best 
there  is — and  I  presume  I  shall  find  your  judgment 
the  best,  but  I  don't  want  any  mistakes  to  start 
with.  If  you  want  to  be  my  foreman  on  those 
terms,  just  say  so,  and  I'll  be  tickled  to  death  to 
have  you." 

For  the  first  time  the  lumberman's  face  lost,  dur- 
ing a  single  instant,  its  mask  of  immobility.  His 
steel-blue  eyes  flashed,  his  mouth  twitched  with 
some  strong  emotion.  For  the  first  time,  too,  he 
spoke  without  his  contemplative  pause  of  prepara' 
tion. 

"  That's  th'  way  to  talk !  "  he  cried.  "  Go  with 
you?  Well  I  should  rise  to  remark!  You're  the 
boss;  and  I  always  said  it.  I'll  get  you  a  gang  of 
bully  boys  that  will  roll  logs  till  there's  skating  ¥• 
hell!" 

Thorpe  left,  after  making  an  appointment  at  hu» 
252 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

own  hotel  for  the  following  day,  more  than  pleased 
with  his  luck.  Although  he  had  by  now  fairly  good 
and  practical  ideas  in  regard  to  the  logging  of  a 
bunch  of  pine,  he  felt  himself  to  be  very  deficient 
in  the  details.  In  fact,  he  anticipated  his  next  step 
with  shaky  confidence.  He  would  now  be  called 
upon  to  buy  four  or  five  teams  of  horses,  and  enough 
feed  to  last  them  the  entire  winter;  he  would  have 
to  arrange  for  provisions  in  abundance  and  variety 
for  his  men;  he  would  have  to  figure  on  blankets, 
harness,  cook-camp  utensils,  stoves,  blacksmith  tools, 
iron,  axes,  chains,  cant-hooks,  van-goods,  pails, 
lamps,  oil,  matches,  all  sorts  of  hardware — in  short, 
all  the  thousand  and  one  things,  from  needles  to 
court-plaster,  of  which  a  self-sufficing  community 
might  come  in  need.  And  he  would  have  to  figure 
out  his  requirements  for  the  entire  winter.  After 
navigation  closed,  he  could  import  nothing  more. 

How  could  he  know  what  to  buy — how  many  bar- 
rels of  flour,  how  much  coffee,  raisins,  baking  pow- 
der, soda,  pork,  beans,  dried  apples,  sugar,  nutmeg, 
pepper,  salt,  crackers,  molasses,  ginger,  lard,  tea, 
corned  beef,  catsup,  mustard — to  last  twenty  men 
five  or  six  months'?  How  could  he  be  expected  to 
think  of  each  item  of  a  list  of  two  hundred,  the  lack 
of  which  meant  measureless  bother,  and  the  desira- 
bility of  which  suggested  itself  only  when  the  neces- 
sity arose?  It  is  easy,  when  the  mind  is  occupied 
with  multitudinous  detail,  to  forget  simple  things, 

253 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

tike  orooms  or  iron  shovels.  With  Tim  Shearer  to 
help  his  inexperience,  he  felt  easy.  He  knew  he 
could  attend  to  advantageous  buying,  and  to  making 
arrangements  with  the  steamship  line  to  Marquette 
for  the  landing  of  his  goods  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Ossawinamakee. 

Deep  in  these  thoughts,  he  wandered  on  at  ran- 
dom. He  suddenly  came  to  himself  in  the  toughest 
quarter  of  Bay  City. 

Through  the  summer  night  shrilled  the  sound  of 
cachinations  painted  to  the  colors  of  mirth.  A  cheap 
piano  rattled  and  thumped  through  an  open  win- 
dow. Men's  and  women's  voices  mingled  in  rising 
and  falling  gradations  of  harshness.  Lights  streamed 
irregularly  across  the  dark. 

Thorpe  became  aware  of  a  figure  crouched  in  the 
doorway  almost  at  his  feet.  The  sill  lay  in  shadow 
so  the  bulk  was  lost,  but  the  flickering  rays  of  a  dis- 
tant street  lamp  threw  into  relief  the  high-lights  of 
a  violin,  and  a  head.  The  face  upturned  to  him  was 
thin  and  white  and  wolfish  under  a  broad  white 
brow.  Dark  eyes  gleamed  at  him  with  the  expres- 
sion of  a  fierce  animal.  Across  the  forehead  ran  a 
long  but  shallow  cut  from  which  blood  dripped. 
The  creature  clasped  both  arms  around  a  violin. 
He  crouched  there  and  stared  up  at  Thorpe,  who 
stared  down  at  him. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  asked  the  latter  finally. 

The  -creature  made  no  reply,  but  drew  hi*  *rms 
254 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

closer  about  his  instrument,  and  blinked  his  wolf 
eyes. 

Moved  by  some  strange,  half-tolerant  whim  of 
compassion,  Thorpe  made  a  sign  to  the  unknown  to 
rise. 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  he,  "  and  I'll  have  your 
forehead  attended  to." 

The  wolf  eyes  gleamed  into  his  with  a  sudden 
savage  concentration.  Then  their  owner  obediently 
arose. 

Thorpe  now  saw  that  the  body  before  him  was  of 
a  cripple,  short-legged,  hunch-backed,  long-armed, 
pigeon-breasted.  The  large  head  sat  strangely  top- 
heavy  between  even  the  broad  shoulders.  It  con- 
firmed the  hopeless  but  sullen  despair  that  brooded 
on  the  white  countenance. 

At  the  hotel  Thorpe,  examining  the  cut,  found  it 
more  serious  in  appearance  than  in  reality.  With  a 
few  pieces  of  sticking  plaster  he  drew  its  edges  to- 
gether. 

Then  he  attempted  to  interrogate  his  find. 

"  What  is  your  name?  "  he  asked. 

"  Phil." 

"  Phil  what?  " 

Silence. 

"  How  did  you  get  hurt*?  " 

No  reply. 

%c  Were  you  playing  your  fiddle  in  one  of  those 
houses'? " 

255 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

The  cripple  nodded  slowly. 

"  Are  you  hungry?  "  asked  Thorpe,  with  a  sudden 
thoughtfulness. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  cripple,  with  a  lightning  gleam 
in  his  wolf  eyes. 

Thorpe  rang  the  bell.  To  the  boy  who  answered 
it  he  said: 

"  Bring  me  half  a  dozen  beef  sandwiches  and  a 
glass  of  milk,  and  be  quick  about  it." 

"Do  you  play  the  fiddle  much*?"  continued 
Thorpe. 

The  cripple  nodded  again. 

"  Let's  hear  what  you  can  do." 

"  They  cut  my  strings !  "  cried  Phil  with  a  pas* 
sionate  wail. 

The  cry  came  from  the  heart,  and  Thorpe  was 
touched  by  it.  The  price  of  strings  was  evidently 
a  big  sum. 

"I'll  get  you  more  in  the  morning,"  said  he. 
"  Would  you  like  to  leave  Bay  City?  " 

"  Yes !  "  cried  the  boy  with  passion. 

"  You  would  have  to  work.  You  would  have  to 
be  chore-boy  in  a  lumber  camp,  and  play  fiddle  for 
the  men  when  taey  wanted  you  to." 

"  I'll  do  it,"  said  the  cripple. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  could"?  You  will  have  to 
split  all  the  wood  for  the  men,  the  cook,  and  the 
office;  you  will  have  to  draw  the  water,  and  fill  the 
lamps,  and  keep  the  camps  clean.    You  will  be  paid 

256 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

for  it,  but  it  is  quite  a  job.  And  you  would  have  to 
do  it  well.  If  you  did  not  do  it  well,  I  would  dis- 
cnarge  you." 

"  I  will  do  it !  "  repeated  the  cripple  with  a  shade 
more  earnestness. 

"  All  right,  then  I'll  take  you,"  replied  Thorpe. 

The  cripple  said  nothing,  nor  moved  a  muscle  of 
his  face,  but  the  gleam  of  the  wolf  faded  to  give 
place  to  the  soft,  affectionate  glow  seen  in  the  eyes 
of  a  setter  dog.    Thorpe  was  startled  at  the  change. 

A  knock  announced  the  sandwiches  and  milk.  The 
cripple  fell  upon  them  with  both  hands  in  a  sudden 
ecstasy  of  hunger.  When  he  had  finished,  he  looked 
again  at  Thorpe,  and  this  time  there  were  tears  in 
his  eyes. 

A  little  later  Thorpe  interviewed  the  proprieto* 
of  the  hotel. 

"  I  wish  you'd  give  this  boy  a  good  cheap  room 
and  charge  his  keep  to  me,"  said  he.  "  He's  going 
north  with  me." 

Phil  was  led  away  by  the  irreverent  porter,  hug- 
ging tightly  his  unstrung  violin  to  his  bosom. 

Thorpe  lay  awake  for  some  time  after  retiring. 
Phil  claimed  a  share  of  his  thoughts. 

Thorpe's  winter  in  the  woods  had  impressed  upon 
him  that  a  good  cook  and  a  fiddler  will  do  more  to 
keep  men  contented  than  high  wages  and  easy  work. 
So  his  protection  of  the  cripple  was  not  entirely  dis- 
interested.   But  his  imagination  persisted  in  occupy- 

257 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

ing  itself  with  the  boy.  What  terrible  life  of  want 
and  vicious  associates  had  he  led  in  this  terrible 
town1?  What  treatment  could  have  lit  that  wolf- 
gleam  in  his  eyes'?  What  hell  had  he  inhabited 
that  he  was  so  eager  to  get  away*?  In  an  hour  or  so 
he  dozed.  He  dreamed  that  the  cripple  had  grown 
to  enormous  proportions  and  was  overshadowing 
his  life.  A  slight  noise  outside  his  bedroom  door 
brought  him  to  his  feet. 

He  opened  the  door  and  found  that  in  the  still- 
ness of  the  night  the  poor  deformed  creature  had 
taken  the  blankets  from  his  bed  and  had  spread  them 
across  the  door-sill  of  the  man  who  had  befriended 
him. 


258 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-NINE 

THREE  weeks  later  the  steam  barge  Pole  Star 
sailed  down  the  reach  of  Saginaw  Bay. 

Thorpe  had  received  letters  from  Carpenter  ad- 
vising him  of  a  credit  to  him  at  a  Marquette  bank, 
and  enclosing  a  draft  sufficient  for  current  expenses. 
Tim  Shearer  had  helped  make  out  the  list  of  neces- 
saries. In  time  everything  was  loaded,  the  gang- 
plank hauled  in,  and  the  little  band  of  Argonauts 
set  their  faces  toward  the  point  where  the  Big  Dip- 
per swings. 

The  weather  was  beautiful.  Each  morning  the 
sun  rose  out  of  the  frosty  blue  lake  water,  and  set 
in  a  sea  of  deep  purple.  The  moon,  once  again  at 
the  full,  drew  broad  paths  across  the  pathless  waste. 
From  the  southeast  blew  daily  the  lake  trades,  to 
die  at  sunset,  and  then  to  return  in  the  soft  still 
nights  from  the  west.  A  more  propitious  beginning 
for  the  adventure  could  not  be  imagined. 

The  ten  horses  in  the  hold  munched  their  hay  and 
oats  as  peaceably  as  though  at  home  in  their  own 
stables.  Jackson  Hines  had  helped  select  them  from 
the  stocks  of  firms  changing  locality  or  going  out  of 
business.     His  judgment  in  such  matters  was  in- 

259 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

fallible,  but  he  had  resolutely  refused  to  take  the 
position  of  barn-boss  which  Thorpe  offered  him. 

"No,"  said  he,  "she's  too  far  north.  I'm  gettin' 
old,  and  the  rheumatics  ain't  what  you  might  call 
abandonin'  of  me.  Up  there  it's  colder  than  hell  on 
a  stoker's  holiday." 

So  Sheaier  had  picked  out  a  barn-boss  of  his  own. 
This  man  was  important,  for  the  horses  are  the  main- 
stay of  logging  operations.  He  had  selected  also  a 
blacksmith,  a  cook,  four  teamsters,  half  a  dozen 
cant-hook  men,  and  as  many  handy  with  axe  or  saw. 

"The  blacksmith  is  also  a  good  wood-butcher 
(carpenter),"  explained  Shearer.  "Four  teams  is 
all  we  ought  to  keep  going  at  a  clip.  If  we  need  a 
few  axe-men,  we  can  pick  'em  up  at  Marquette.  I 
think  this  gang'll  stick.     I  picked  'em." 

There  was  not  a  young  man  in  the  lot.  They 
were  most  of  them  in  the  prime  of  middle  life, 
between  thirty  and  forty,  rugged  in  appearance, 
"cocky"  in  manner,  with  the  swagger  and  the  oath 
of  so  many  buccaneers,  hard  as  nails.  Altogether 
Thorpe  thought  them  about  as  rough  a  set  of  cus- 
tomers as  he  had  ever  seen.  Throughout  the  day 
they  played  cards  on  deck,  and  spat  tobacco  juice 
abroad,  and  swore  incessantly.  Toward  himself  and 
Shearer  their  manner  was  an  odd  mixture  of  inde- 
pendent equality  and  a  slight  deference.  It  was  as 
much  as  to  say,  "You're  the  boss,  but  I'm  as  good 
a  man  as  you  any  day."    They  would  be  a  rough, 

260 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

turbulent,  unruly  mob  to  handle,  but  under  a  strong 
man  they  might  accomplish  wonders. 

Constituting  the  elite  of  the  profession,  as  it  were 
— whose  swagger  every  lad  new  to  the  woods  and 
river  tried  to  emulate,  to  whom  lesser  lights  looked 
up  as  heroes  and  models,  and  whose  lofty,  half-con- 
temptuous scorn  of  everything  and  everybody  out- 
side their  circle  of  "  bully  boys  "  was  truly  the  aris- 
tocracy of  class — Thorpe  might  have  wondered  at 
their  consenting  to  work  for  an  obscure  little  camp 
belonging  to  a  greenhorn.  Loyalty  to  and  pride  in 
the  firm  for  which  he  works  is  a  strong  character- 
istic of  the  lumber-jack.  He  will  fight  at  the  drop 
of  a  hat  on  behalf  of  his  "  Old  Fellows  " ;  brag  loud 
and  long  of  the  season's  cut,  the  big  loads,  the  smart 
methods  of  his  camps;  and  even  after  he  has  been 
discharged  for  some  flagrant  debauch,  he  cherishes 
no  rancor,  but  speaks  with  soft  reminiscence  to  the 
end  of  his  days  concerning  "  that  winter  in  '8l  when 
the  Old  Fellows  put  in  sixty  million  on  Flat  River." 

For  this  reason  he  feels  that  he  owes  it  to  his 
reputation  to  ally  himself  only  with  firms  of  cred- 
itable size  and  efficiency.  The  small  camps  are  for 
the  youngsters.  Occasionally  you  will  see  two  or 
three  of  the  veterans  in  such  a  camp,  but  it  is  gen- 
erally a  case  of  lacking  something  better. 

The  truth  is,  Shearer  had  managed  to  inspire  in 
the  minds  of  his  cronies  an  idea  that  they  were  about 
to  participate  in  a  fight.    He  re-told  Thorpe's  story 

261 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

artistically,  shading  the  yellows  and  the  reds.  He 
detailed  the  situation  as  it  existed.  The  men  agreed 
that  the  "  young  fellow  had  sand  enough  for  a  lake 
front."  After  that  there  needed  but  a  little  skillful 
maneuvring  to  inspire  them  with  the  idea  that  it 
would  be  a  great  thing  to  take  a  hand,  to  "  make  a 
camp  "  in  spite  of  the  big  concern  up-river. 

Shearer  knew  that  this  attitude  was  tentative. 
Everything  depended  on  how  well  Thorpe  lived  up 
to  his  reputation  at  the  outset — how  good  a  first  im- 
pression of  force  and  virility  he  would  manage  to 
convey— for  the  first  impression  possessed  the  power 
of  transmuting  the  present  rather  ill-defined  enthusi- 
asm into  loyalty  or  dissatisfaction.  But  Tim  him- 
self believed  in  Thorpe  blindly.    So  he  had  no  fears. 

A  little  incident  at  the  beginning  of  the  voyage 
did  much  to  reassure  him.  It  was  on  the  old  ques- 
tion of  whiskey. 

Thorpe  had  given  orders  that  no  whiskey  was  to  be 
brought  aboard,  as  he  intended  to  tolerate  no  high- 
sea  orgies.  Soon  after  leaving  dock  he  saw  one  of 
the  teamsters  drinking  from  a  pint  flask.  Without 
a  word  he  stepped  briskly  forward,  snatched  the 
bottle  from  the  man's  lips,  and  threw  it  overboard. 
Then  he  turned  sharp  on  his  heel  and  walked  away, 
without  troubling  himself  as  to  how  the  fellow  was 
going  to  take  it. 

The  occurrence  pleased  the  men,  for  it  showed 
them  they  had  made  no  mistake.    But  it  meant  little 

262 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

else.  The  chief  danger  really  was  lest  they  become 
too  settled  in  the  protective  attitude.  As  they  took 
it,  they  were  about,  good-naturedly,  to  help  along  a 
worthy  greenhorn.  This  they  considered  exceed- 
ingly generous  on  their  part,  and  in  their  own  minds 
they  were  inclined  to  look  on  Thorpe  much  as  a 
grown  man  would  look  on  a  child.  There  needed 
an  occasion  for  him  to  prove  himself  bigger  than 
they. 

Fine  weather  followed  them  up  the  long  blue 
reach  of  Lake  Huron;  into  the  noble  breadth  of  the 
Detour  Passage,  past  the  opening  through  the  Thou- 
sand Islands  of  the  Georgian  Bay;  into  the  St. 
Mary's  River.  They  were  locked  through  after 
some  delay  on  account  of  the  grain  barges  from 
Duluth,  and  at  last  turned  their  prow  westward  in 
the  Big  Sea  Water,  beyond  which  lay  Hiawatha's 
Po-ne-mah,  the  Land  of  the  Hereafter. 

Thorpe  was  about  late  that  night,  drinking  in  the 
mystic  beauty  of  the  scene.  Northern  lights,  pale 
and  dim,  stretched  their  arc  across  beneath  the  Dip- 
per. The  air,  soft  as  the  dead  leaves  of  spring, 
fanned  his  cheek.  By  and  by  the  moon,  like  a  red 
fire  at  sea,  lifted  itself  from  the  waves.  Thorpe 
made  his  way  to  the  stern,  beyond  the  square  deck- 
house, where  he  intended  to  lean  on  the  rail  in  silent 
contemplation  of  the  moon-path. 

He  found  another  before  him.  Phil,  the  little 
cripple,  was  peering  into  the  wonderful  east,  its  light 

263 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

in  his  eyes.  He  did  not  look  at  Thorpe  when  the 
latter  approached,  but  seemed  aware  of  his  presence, 
for  he  moved  swiftly  to  give  room. 

"  It  is  very  beautiful;  isn't  it,  Phil?  "  said  Thorpe 
after  a  moment. 

"  It  is  the  Heart  Song  of  the  Sea,"  replied  the 
cripple  in  a  hushed  voice. 

Thorpe  looked  down  surprised. 

"  Who  told  you  that?  "  he  asked. 

But  the  cripple,  repeating  the  words  of  a  chance 
preacher,  could  explain  himself  no  further.  In  a 
dim  way  the  ready-made  phrase  had  expressed  the 
smothered  poetic  craving  of  his  heart — the  belief 
that  the  sea,  the  sky,  the  woods,  the  men  and  women, 
you,  I,  all  have  our  Heart  Songs,  the  Song  which 
is  most  beautiful. 

"  The  Heart  Song  of  the  Sea,"  he  repeated  grop- 
ingly. "  I  don't  know  ...  I  play  it,"  and  he  made 
the  motion  of  drawing  a  bow  across  strings,  "  very 
still  and  low."  And  this  was  all  Thorpe's  question 
could  elicit. 

Thorpe  fell  silent  in  the  spell  of  the  night,  and 
pondered  over  the  chances  of  life  which  had  cast  on 
the  shores  of  the  deep  as  driftwood  the  soul  of  a 
poet. 

"  Your  Song,"  said  the  cripple  timidly,  "  some 
day  I  will  hear  it.  Not  yet.  That  night  in  Bay 
City,  when  you  took  me  in,  I  heard  it  very  dim. 
But  I  cannot  play  it  yet  on  my  violin." 

264. 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

"  Has  your  violin  a  song  of  its  own?  "  queried 
die  man. 

"  I  cannot  hear  it.  It  tries  to  sing,  but  there  is 
something  in  the  way.  I  cannot.  Some  day  I  will 
hear  it  and  play  it,  but" — and  he  drew  nearer 
Thorpe  and  touched  his  arm — "  that  day  will  be 
very  bad  for  me.  I  lose  something."  His  eyes  of 
the  wistful  dog  were  big  and  wondering. 

"  Queer  little  Phil ! "  cried  Thorpe  laughing 
whimsically.    "  Who  tells  you  these  things?  " 

"  Nobody,"  said  the  cripple  dreamily,  "  they 
rome  when  it  is  like  to-night.  In  Bay  City  they  do 
not  come." 

At  this  moment  a  third  voice  broke  in  on  them. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  Mr.  Thorpe,"  said  the  captain  of 
the  vessel.  "  Thought  it  was  some  of  them  lumber- 
jacks, and  I  was  going  to  fire  'em  below.  Fine 
night." 

"  It  is  that,"  answered  Thorpe,  again  the  cold,  un- 
responsive man  of  reticence.  "  When  do  you  expect 
to  get  in,  Captain"?  " 

"  About  to-morrow  noon,"  replied  the  captain, 
moving  away.  Thorpe  followed  him  a  short  dis- 
tance, discussing  the  landing.  The  cripple  stood  all 
night,  his  bright,  luminous  eyes  gazing  clear  and  un- 
winking at  the  moonlight,  listening  to  his  Heart 
Song  of  the  Sea. 


265 


CHAPTER   THIRTY 

NEXT  morning  continued  the  traditions  of  its 
calm  predecessors.  Therefore  by  daybreak 
every  man  was  at  work.  The  hatches  were  opened, 
and  soon  between-decks  was  cumbered  with  boxes, 
packing  cases,  barrels,  and  crates.  In  their  impro- 
vised stalls,  the  patient  horses  seemed  to  catch  a  hint 
of  shore-going  and  whinnied.  By  ten  o'clock  there 
loomed  against  the  strange  coast  line  of  the  Pictured 
Rocks,  a  shallow  bay  and  what  looked  to  be  a  dock 
distorted  by  the  northern  mirage. 

"  That's  her,"  said  the  captain. 

Two  hours  later  the  steamboat  swept  a  wide 
curve,  slid  between  the  yellow  waters  of  two  out- 
lying reefs,  and,  with  slackened  speed,  moved  slowly 
toward  the  wharf  of  log  cribs  filled  with  stone. 

The  bay  or  the  dock  Thorpe  had  never  seen.  He 
took  them  on  the  captain's  say-so.  He  knew  very 
well  that  the  structure  had  been  erected  by  and 
belonged  to  Morrison  &  Daly,  but  the  young  man 
had  had  the  foresight  to  purchase  the  land  lying  on 
the  deep-water  side  of  the  bay.  He  therefore  antici- 
pated no  trouble  in  unloading;  for  while  Morrison 
&  Daly  owned  the  pier  itself,  the  land  on  which  it 
abutted  belonged  to  him. 

266 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

From  the  arms  of  the  bay  he  could  make  out  a 
dozen  figures  standing  near  the  end  of  the  wharf. 
When,  with  propeller  reversed,  the  Pole  Star  bore 
slowly  down  toward  her  moorings,  Thorpe  recog- 
nized Dyer  at  the  head  of  eight  or  ten  woodsmen. 
The  sight  of  Radway's  old  scaler  somehow  filled 
him  with  a  quiet  but  dangerous  anger,  especially 
since  that  official,  on  whom  rested  a  portion  at  least 
of  the  responsibility  of  the  jobber's  failure,  was  now 
found  in  the  employ  of  the  very  company  which  had 
attempted  that  failure.    It  looked  suspicious. 

"  Catch  this  line !  "  sung  out  the  mate,  hurling  the 
coil  of  a  handline  on  the  wharf. 

No  one  moved,  and  the  little  rope,  after  a  mo- 
ment, slid  overboard  with  a  splash. 

The  captain,  with  a  curse,  signalled  full  speed 
astern. 

"  Captain  Morse !  "  cried  Dyer,  stepping  forward. 
"  My  orders  are  that  you  are  to  land  here  nothing 
but  M.  &  D.  merchandise." 

"  I  have  a  right  to  land,"  answered  Thorpe. 
"  The  shore  belongs  to  me." 

"  This  dock  doesn't,"  retorted  the  other  sharply, 
"  and  you  can't  set  foot  on  her." 

"  You  have  no  legal  status.  You  had  no  business 
building  in  the  first  place — "  began  Thorpe,  and 
then  stopped  with  a  choke  of  anger  at  the  futility  of 
arguing  legality  in  such  a  case. 

The  men  had  gathered  interestedly  in  the  waist  of 
267 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

the  ship,  cool,  impartial,  severely  critical.  The  ves- 
sel, gathering  speed  astern,  but  not  yet  obeying  her 
reversed  helm,  swung  her  bow  in  toward  the  dock. 
Thorpe  ran  swiftly  forward,  and  during  the  instant 
of  rubbing  contact,  leaped. 

He  alighted  squarely  upon  his  feet.  Without  an 
instant's  hesitation,  hot  with  angry  energy  at  finding 
his  enemy  within  reach  of  his  hand,  he  rushed  on 
Dyer,  and  with  one  full,  clean  in-blow  stretched  him 
stunned  on  the  dock.  For  a  moment  there  was  a 
pause  of  astonishment.  Then  the  woodsmen  closed 
upon  him. 

During  that  instant  Thorpe  had  become  possessed 
of  a  weapon.  It  came  hurling  through  the  air  from 
above  to  fall  at  his  feet.  Shearer,  with  the  cool  cal- 
culation of  the  pioneer  whom  no  excitement  can 
distract  from  the  main  issue,  had  seen  that  it  would 
be  impossible  to  follow  his  chief,  and  so  had  done 
the  next  best  thing — thrown  him  a  heavy  iron  be- 
laying pin. 

Thorpe  was  active,  alert,  and  strong.  The  men 
could  come  at  him  only  in  front.  As  offset,  he  could 
not  give  ground,  even  for  one  step.  Still,  in  the 
hands  of  a  powerful  man,  the  belaying  pin  is  by  no 
means  a  despicable  weapon.  Thorpe  hit  with  all  his 
strength  and  quickness.  He  was  conscious  once  of 
being  on  the  point  of  defeat.  Then  he  had  cleared 
a  little  space  for  himself.  Then  the  men  were  on 
him  again  more  savagely  than  ever.     One  fellow 

268 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

even  succeeded  in  hitting  him  a  glancing  blow  on  the 
shoulder. 

Then  came  a  sudden  crash.  Thorpe  was  nearly 
thrown  from  his  feet.  The  next  instant  a  score  of 
yelling  men  leaped  behind  and  all  around  him. 
There  ensued  a  moment's  scuffle,  the  sound  of  dull 
blows;  and  the  dock  was  clear  of  all  but  Dyer  and 
three  others  who  were,  like  himself,  unconscious. 
The  captain,  yielding  to  the  excitement,  had  run  his 
prow  plump  against  the  wharf. 

Some  of  the  crew  received  the  mooring  lines.  All 
was  ready  for  disembarkation. 

Bryan  Moloney,  a  strapping  Irish-American  of 
the  big-boned,  red-cheeked  type,  threw  some  water 
over  the  four  stunned  combatants.  Slowly  they 
came  to  life.  They  were  promptly  yanked  to  their 
feet  by  the  irate  rivermen,  who  commenced  at  once 
to  bestow  sundry  vigorous  kicks  and  shakings  by  way 
of  punishment.     Thorpe  interposed. 

"  Quit  it !  "  he  commanded.     "  Let  them  go !  " 

The  men  grumbled.  One  or  two  were  inclined  to 
be  openly  rebellious. 

"  If  I  hear  another  peep  out  of  you,"  said  Thorpe 
to  these  latter,  "you  can  climb  right  aboard  and 
take  the  return  trip."  He  looked  them  in  the  eye 
until  they  muttered,  and  then  went  on :  "  Now, 
we've  got  to  get  unloaded  and  our  goods  ashore  be- 
fore those  fellows  report  to  camp.  Get  right  mov« 
mg,  and  hustle '  " 

269 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

If  the  men  expected  any  comment,  approval,  or 
familiarity  from  their  leader  on  account  of  theii 
little  fracas,  they  were  disappointed.  This  was  a 
good  thing.  The  lumber-jack  demands  in  his  boss 
a  certain  fundamental  unapproachability,  whatever 
surface  bonhomie  he  may  evince. 

So  Dyer  and  his  men  picked  themselves  out  of  the 
trouble  sullenly  and  departed.  The  ex-scaler  had 
nothing  to  say  as  long  as  he  was  within  reach,  bur 
when  he  had  gained  the  shore,  he  turned. 

"  You  won't  think  this  is  so  funny  when  you  get 
in  the  law-courts !  "  he  shouted. 

Thorpe  made  no  reply.  "  I  guess  we'll  keep 
even,"  he  muttered. 

V  By  the  jumping  Moses,"  snarled  Scotty  Parsons 
turning  in  threat. 

"  Scotty !  "  said  Thorpe  sharply. 

Scotty  turned  back  to  his  task,  which  was  to  help 
the  blacksmith  put  together  the  wagon,  the  com- 
ponent parts  of  which  the  others  had  trundled  out. 

With  thirty  men  at  the  job  it  does  not  take  a 
great  while  to  move  a  small  cargo  thirty  or  forty 
feet.  By  three  o'clock  the  Pole  Star  was  ready  to 
continue  her  journey.  Thorpe  climbed  aboard,  leav- 
ing Shearer  in  charge. 

"  Keep  the  men  at  it,  Tim,"  said  he.  "  Put  up 
the  walls  of  the  warehouse  good  and  strong,  and 
move  the  stuff  in.  If  it  rains,  you  can  spread  the 
tent  over  the  roof,  and  camp  in  with  the  provisions 

270 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

If  you  get  through  before  I  return,  you  might  take 
a  scout  up  the  river  and  fix  on  a  camp  site.  I'll 
bring  back  the  lumber  for  roofs,  floors,  and  trim- 
mings with  me,  and  will  try  to  pick  up  a  few  axe- 
men for  swamping.  Above  all  things,  have  a  good 
man  or  so  always  in  charge.  Those  fellows  won't 
bother  us  any  more  for  the  present,  I  think;  but  it 
pays  to  be  on  deck.    So  long." 

In  Marquette,  Thorpe  arranged  for  the  cashing 
of  his  time  checks  and  orders ;  bought  lumber  at  the 
mills;  talked  contract  with  old  Harvey,  the  mill- 
owner  and  prospective  buyer  of  the  young  man's 
cut;  and  engaged  four  axe-men  whom  he  found 
loafing  about,  waiting  for  the  season  to  open. 

When  he  returned  to  the  bay  he  found  the  ware- 
house complete  except  for  the  roofs  and  gables. 
These,  with  their  reinforcement  of  tar-paper,  were 
nailed  on  in  short  order.  Shearer  and  Andrews,  the 
surveyor,  were  scouting  up  the  river. 

"  No  trouble  from  above,  boys'?  "  asked  Thorpe. 

"  Nary  trouble,"  they  replied. 

The  warehouse  was  secured  by  padlocks,  the 
wagon  loaded  with  the  tent  and  the  necessaries  of 
life  and  work.  Early  in  the  morning  the  little  pro- 
cession— laughing,  joking,  skylarking  with  the  high 
spirits  of  men  in  the  woods — took  its  way  up  the 
river-trail.  Late  that  evening,  tired,  but  still  in- 
clined to  mischief,  they  came  to  the  first  dam,  where 
Shearer  and  Andrews  met  them. 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  How  do  you  like  it,  Tim*?  "  asked  Thorpe  that 
evening. 

"  She's  all  right,"  replied  the  riverman  with  em* 
phasis ;  which,  for  him,  was  putting  it  strong. 

At  noon  of  the  following  day  the  party  arrived 
at  the  second  dam.  Here  Shearer  had  decided  to 
build  the  permanent  camp.  Injin  Charley  was  con« 
structing  one  of  his  endless  series  of  birch-barH 
canoes.  Later  he  would  paddle  the  whole  string  to 
Marquette,  where  he  would  sell  them  to  a  hardware 
dealer  for  two  dollars  and  a  half  apiece. 

To  Thorpe,  who  had  walked  on  ahead  with  his 
foreman,  it  seemed  that  he  had  never  been  away. 
There  was  the  knoll;  the  rude  camp  with  the  deer 
hides ;  the  venison  hanging  suspended  from  the  pole ; 
the  endless  broil  and  tumult  of  the  clear  north-coun- 
try stream;  the  yellow  glow  over  the  hill  opposite. 
Yet  he  had  gone  a  nearly  penniless  adventurer;  he 
returned  at  the  head  of  an  enterprise. 

Injin  Charley  looked  up  and  grunted  as  Thorpe 
approached. 

"How  are  you,  Charley*?"  greeted  Thorpe  reti- 
cently. 

"  You  gettum  pine1?  Good!  "  replied  Charley  in 
the  same  tone. 

That  was  all ;  for  strong  men  never  talk  freely  of 
what  is  in  their  hearts.  There  is  no  need;  they  un 
der  stand. 


272 


CHAPTER    THIRTY-ONE 

TWO   months   passed   away.     Winter   set   in. 
The  camp  was  built  and  inhabited.     Routine 
had  established  itself,  and  all  was  going  well. 

The  first  move  of  the  M.  &  D.  Company  had  been 
one  of  conciliation.  Thorpe  was  approached  by  the 
walking-boss  of  the  camps  up-river.  The  man  made 
no  reference  to  or  excuse  for  what  had  occurred,  nor 
did  he  pretend  to  any  hypocritical  friendship  for  the 
younger  firm.  His  proposition  was  entirely  one  of 
mutual  advantage.  The  Company  had  gone  to  con- 
siderable expense  in  constructing  the  pier  of  stone 
cribs.  It  would  be  impossible  for  the  steamer  to 
land  at  any  other  point.  Thorpe  had  undisputed 
possession  of  the  shore,  but  the  Company  could  as 
indisputably  remove  the  dock.  Let  it  stay  where 
it  was.  Both  companies  could  then  use  it  for  their 
mutual  convenience. 

To  this  Thorpe  agreed.  Baker,  the  walking-boss, 
tried  to  get  him  to  sign  a  contract  to  that  effect. 
Thorpe  refused. 

"  Leave  your  dock  where  it  is  and  use  it  when 
you  want  to,"  said  he.  "I'll  agree  not  to  interfere 
as  long  as  you  people  behave  yourselves." 

273 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

The  actual  logging  was  opening  up  well.  Both 
Shearer  and  Thorpe  agreed  that  it  would  not  do  to 
be  too  ambitious  the  first  year.  They  set  about 
clearing  their  banking  ground  about  a  half  mile 
below  the  first  dam ;  and  during  the  six  weeks  before 
snowfall  cut  three  short  roads  of  half  a  mile  each. 
Approximately  two  million  feet  would  be  put  in 
from  these  roads — which  could  be  extended  in  years 
to  come — while  another  million  could  be  travoyed 
directly  to  the  landing  from  its  immediate  vicinity. 

"  We  won't  skid  them,"  said  Tim.  "  We'll  haul 
from  the  stump  to  the  bank.  And  we'll  tackle  only 
a  snow-road  proposition:  we  ain't  got  time  to 
monkey  with  buildin'  sprinklers  and  plows  this 
year.  We'll  make  a  little  stake  ahead,  and  then 
next  year  we'll  do  it  right  and  get  in  twenty  million. 
That  railroad' 11  get  along  a  ways  by  then,  and 
men' 11  be  more  plenty." 

Through  the  lengthening  evenings  they  sat 
crouched  on  wooden  boxes  either  side  of  the  stove, 
conversing  rarely,  gazing  at  one  spot  with  a  steady 
persistency  which  was  only  an  outward  indication 
of  the  persistency  with  which  their  minds  held  to 
the  work  in  hand.  Tim,  the  older  at  the  business, 
showed  this  trait  more  strongly  than  Thorpe.  The 
old  man  thought  of  nothing  but  logging.  From  the 
stump  to  the  bank,  from  the  bank  to  the  camp,  from 
the  camp  to  the  stump  again,  his  restless  intelli- 
gence travelled  tirelessly,  picking  up,  turning  over, 

374 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

examining  the  littlest  details  with  an  ever-fresh 
curiosity  and  interest.  Nothing  was  too  small  to 
escape  this  deliberate  scrutiny.  Nothing  was  in  so 
perfect  a  state  that  it  did  not  bear  one  more  in- 
spection. He  played  the  logging  as  a  chess  player 
his  game.  One  by  one  he  adopted  the  various  pos- 
sibilities, remote  and  otherwise,  as  hypotheses,  and 
thought  out  to  the  uttermost  copper  rivet  what  would 
be  the  best  method  of  procedure  in  case  that  possi- 
bility should  confront  him. 

Occasionally  Thorpe  would  introduce  some  other 
topic  of  conversation.  The  old  man  would  listen  to 
his  remark  with  the  attention  of  courtesy;  would 
allow  a  decent  period  of  silence  to  intervene;  and 
then,  reverting  to  the  old  subject  without  comment 
on  the  new,  would  emit  one  of  his  terse  practical 
suggestions,  result  of  a  long  spell  of  figuring.  That 
is  how  success  is  made. 

In  the  men's  camp  the  crew  lounged,  smoked, 
danced,  or  played  cards.  In  those  days  no  one 
thought  of  forbidding  gambling.  One  evening 
Thorpe,  who  had  been  too  busy  to  remember  Phil's 
violin — although  he  noticed,  as  he  did  every  other 
detail  of  the  camp,  the  cripple's  industry,  and  the 
precision  with  which  he  performed  his  duties — 
strolled  over  and  looked  through  the  window.  A 
dance  was  in  progress.  The  men  were  waltzing, 
whirling  solemnly  round  and  round,  gripping  firmly 
each  other's  loose  sleeves  just  above  the  elbow.    At 

275 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

every  third  step  of  the  waltz  they  stamped  one 
foot. 

Perched  on  a  cracker  box  sat  Phil.  His  head  was 
thrust  forward  almost  aggressively  over  his  instru- 
ment, and  his  eyes  glared  at  the  dancing  men  with 
the  old  wolf-like  gleam.  As  he  played,  he  drew 
the  bow  across  with  a  swift  jerk,  thrust  it  back  with 
another,  threw  his  shoulders  from  one  side  to  the 
other  in  abrupt  time  to  the  music.  And  the  music ! 
Thorpe  unconsciously  shuddered;  then  sighed  in 
pity.  It  was  atrocious.  It  was  not  even  in  tune. 
Two  out  of  three  of  the  notes  were  either  sharp  or 
flat,  not  so  flagrantly  as  to  produce  absolute  dishar- 
mony, but  just  enough  to  set  the  teeth  on  edge. 
And  the  rendition  was  as  colorless  as  that  of  a  poor 
hand-organ. 

The  performer  seemed  to  grind  out  his  fearful 
stuff  with  a  fierce  delight,  in  which  appeared  little 
of  the  aesthetic  pleasure  of  the  artist.  Thorpe  was 
at  a  loss  to  define  it. 

"  Poor  Phil,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  He  has  the 
musical  soul  without  even  the  musical  ear !  " 

Next  day,  while  passing  out  of  the  cook  camp  he 
addressed  one  of  the  men: 

"  Well,  Billy,"  he  inquired,  "  how  do  you  like 
your  fiddler?" 

"  All  right ! "  replied  Billy  with  emphasis. 
'•  She's  got  some  go  to  her." 

In  the  woods  the  work  proceeded  finely.  From 
276 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

the  travoy  sledges  and  the  short  roads  a  constant 
stream  of  logs  emptied  itself  on  the  bank.  There 
long  parallel  skidways  had  been  laid  the  whole 
width  of  the  river  valley.  Each  log  as  it  came  was 
dragged  across  those  monster  andirons  and  rolled  to 
the  bank  of  the  river.  The  cant-hook  men  dug  their 
implements  into  the  rough  bark,  leaned,  lifted,  or 
clung  to  'the  projecting  stocks  until  slowly  the 
log  moved,  rolling  with  gradually  increasing  mo- 
mentum. Then  they  attacked  it  with  fury  lest 
the  momentum  be  lost.  Whenever  it  began  to 
deviate  from  the  straight  rolling  necessary  to  keep 
it  on  the  centre  of  the  skids,  one  of  the  workers 
thrust  the  shoe  of  his  cant-hook  under  one  end  of 
the  log.  That  end  promptly  stopped;  the  other, 
still  rolling,  soon  caught  up;  and  the  log  moved  on 
evenly,  as  was  fitting. 

At  the  end  of  the  railway  the  log  collided  with 
other  logs  and  stopped  with  the  impact  of  one  bowl- 
ing ball  against  another.  The  men  knew  that  being 
caught  between  the  two  meant  death  or  crippling 
for  life.  Nevertheless  they  escaped  from  the  nar- 
rowing interval  at  the  latest  possible  moment,  for  it 
is  easier  to  keep  a  log  rolling  than  to  start  it. 

Then  other  men  piled  them  by  means  of  long 
steel  chains  and  horses,  just  as  they  would  have 
skidded  them  in  the  woods.  Only  now  the  logs 
mounted  up  and  up  until  the  skidways  were  thirty 
or  forty  feet  high.    Eventually  the  pile  of  logs  would 

277 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

fill  the  banking  ground  utterly,  burying  the  landing 
under  a  nearly  continuous  carpet  of  timber  as  thick 
as  a  two-story  house  is  tall.  The  work  is  dangerous. 
A  saw  log  containing  six  hundred  board  feet  weighs 
about  one  ton.  This  is  the  weight  of  an  ordinary 
iron  safe.  When  one  of  them  rolls  or  falls  from 
even  a  moderate  height,  its  force  is  irresistible.  But 
when  twenty  or  thirty  cascade  down  the  bold  front 
of  a  skidway,  carrying  a  man  or  so  with  them,  the 
affair  becomes  a  catastrophe. 

Thorpe's  men,  however,  were  all  old-timers,  and 
nothing  of  the  sort  occurred.  At  first  it  made  him 
catch  his  breath  to  see  the  apparent  chances  they 
took;  but  after  a  little  he  perceived  that  seeming 
luck  was  in  reality  a  coolness  of  judgment  and  a 
long  experience  in  the  peculiar  ways  of  that  most 
erratic  of  inanimate  cussedness — the  pine  log.  The 
banks  grew  daily.    Everybody  was  safe  and  sound. 

The  young  lumberman  had  sense  enough  to  know 
that,  while  a  crew  such  as  his  is  supremely  effective, 
it  requires  careful  handling  to  keep  it  good-humored 
and  willing.  He  knew  every  man  by  his  first  name, 
and  each  day  made  it  a  point  to  talk  with  him  for  a 
moment  or  so.  The  subject  was  invariably  some 
phase  of  the  work.  Thorpe  never  permitted  himself 
the  familiarity  of  introducing  any  other  topic.  By 
this  course  he  preserved  the  nice  balance  between  too 
great  reserve,  which  chills  the  lumber-jack's  rather 
independent  enthusiasm,  and  the  too  great  familiar- 

278 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

ity,  which  loses  his  respect.  He  never  replied  di- 
rectly to  an  objection  or  a  request,  but  listened  to  it 
non-committally ;  and  later,  without  explanation  or 
reasoning,  acted  as  his  judgment  dictated.  Even 
Shearer,  with  whom  he  was  in  most  intimate  contact, 
respected  this  trait  in  him.  Gradually  he  came  to 
feel  that  he  was  making  a  way  with  his  men.  It 
was  a  status,  not  assured  as  yet  nor  even  very  firm, 
but  a  status  for  all  that. 

Then  one  day  one  of  the  best  men,  a  teamster, 
came  in  to  make  some  objection  to  the  cooking.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  the  cooking  was  perfectly  good.  It 
generally  is,  in  a  well-conducted  camp,  but  the  lum- 
ber-jack is  a  great  hand  to  growl,  and  he  usually 
begins  with  his  food. 

Thorpe  listened  to  his  vague  objections  in  silence. 

"  All  right,"  he  remarked  simply. 

Next  day  he  touched  the  man  on  the  shoulder 
just  as  he  was  starting  to  work. 

"  Step  into  the  office  and  get  your  time,"  said  he. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  asked  the  man. 

"  I  don't  need  you  any  longer." 

The  two  entered  the  little  office.  Thorpe  looked 
through  the  ledger  and  van  book,  and  finally  handed 
the  man  his  slip. 

"  Where  do  I  get  this?  "  asked  the  teamster,  look- 
ing at  it  uncertainly. 

"At  the  bank  in  Marquette,"  replied  Thorpe 
without  glancing  around. 

279 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  Have  I  got  to  go  'way  up  to  Marquette?  " 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Thorpe  briefly. 

"  Who's  going  to  pay  my  fare  south'?  " 

"  You  are.    You  can  get  work  at  Marquette." 

"  That  ain't  a  fair  shake,"  cried  the  man  ex- 
citedly. 

"  I'll  have  no  growlers  in  this  camp,"  said  Thorpe 
with  decision. 

"  By  God !  "  cried  the  man,  "  you  damned " 

"  You  get  out  of  here !  "  cried  Thorpe  with  a  con- 
centrated blaze  of  energetic  passion  that  made  the 
fellow  step  back. 

"  I  ain't  goin'  to  get  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  law 
by  foolin'  with  this  office,"  cried  the  other  at  the 
door,  "  but  if  I  had  you  outside  for  a  minute 'k 

"  Leave  this  office !  "  shouted  Thorpe. 

"  S'pose  you  make  me !  "  challenged  the  man  in- 
solently. 

In  a  moment  the  defiance  had  come,  endanger 
ing  the  careful  structure  Thorpe  had  reared  with 
such  pains.  The  young  man  was  suddenly  angry 
in  exactly  the  same  blind,  unreasoning  manner  as 
when  he  had  leaped  single-handed  to  tackle  Dyer's 
crew. 

Without  a  word  he  sprang  across  the  shack,  seized 
a  two-bladed  axe  from  the  pile  behind  the  door, 
swung  it  around  his  head  and  cast  it  full  at  the  now 
frightened  teamster.  The  latter  dodged,  and  the 
swirling  steel  buried  itself  in  the  snowbank  beyond. 

280 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

Without  an  instant's  hesitation  Thorpe  reached  back 
for  another.    The  man  took  to  his  heels. 

"I  don't  want  to  see  you  around  here  again!" 
shouted  Thorpe  after  him. 

Then  in  a  moment  he  returned  to  the  office  and 
sat  down  overcome  with  contrition. 

"  It  might  have  been  murder !  "  he  told  himself, 
awe-stricken. 

But,  as  it  happened,  nothing  could  have  turned 
out  better. 

Thorpe  had  instinctively  seized  the  only  method 
by  which  these  strong  men  could  be  impressed.  A 
rough-and-tumble  attempt  at  ejectment  would  have 
been  useless.  Now  the  entire  crew  looked  with  vast 
admiration  on  their  boss  as  a  man  who  intended 
to  have  his  own  way  no  matter  what  difficulties  or 
consequences  might  tend  to  deter  him.  And  that  is 
the  kind  of  man  they  liked.  This  one  deed  was 
more  effective  in  cementing  their  loyalty  than  any 
increase  of  wages  would  have  been. 

Thorpe  knew  that  their  restless  spirits  would  soon 
tire  of  the  monotony  of  work  without  ultimate  in- 
terest. Ordinarily  the  hope  of  a  big  cut  is  sufficient 
to  keep  men  of  the  right  sort  working  for  a  record. 
But  these  men  had  no  such  hope — the  camp  was  too 
small,  and  they  were  too  few.  Thorpe  adopted  the 
expedient,  now  quite  common,  of  posting  the  result* 
of  each  day's  work  in  the  men's  shanty. 

Three  teams  were  engaged  in  travoying,  and  twa 
28 1 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

in  skidding  the  logs,  either  on  the  banking  ground, 
or  along  the  road.  Thorpe  divided  his  camp  into 
four  sections,  which  he  distinguished  by  the  names 
of  the  teamsters.  Roughly  speaking,  each  of  the 
three  hauling  teams  had  its  own  gang  of  sawyers 
and  skidders  to  supply  it  with  logs  and  to  take  them 
from  it,  for  of  the  skidding  teams,  one  was  split; — 
the  horses  were  big  enough  so  that  one  of  them  to  a 
skidway  sufficed.  Thus  three  gangs  of  men  were 
performing  each  day  practically  the  same  work. 
Thorpe  scaled  the  results,  and  placed  them  conspicu- 
ously for  comparison. 

Red  Jacket,  the  teamster  of  the  sorrels,  one  day 
was  credited  with  1 1,000  feet;  while  Long  Pine  Jim 
and  Rollway  Charley  had  put  in  but  10,500  and 
10,250  respectively.  That  evening  all  the  sawyers, 
swampers,  and  skidders  belonging  to  Red  Jacket's 
outfit  were  considerably  elated ;  while  the  others  said 
little  and  prepared  for  business  on  the  morrow. 

Once  Long  Pine  Jim  lurked  at  the  bottom  for 
three  days.  Thorpe  happened  by  the  skidway  just 
as  Long  Pine  arrived  with  a  log.  The  young  fellow 
glanced  solicitously  at  the  splendid  buckskins,  the 
best  horses  in  camp. 

"  I'm  afraid  [  didn't  give  you  a  very  good  team, 
Jimmy,"  said  he,  and  passed  on. 

That  was  all;  but  men  of  the  rival  gangs  had 
heard.  In  camp  Long  Pine  Jim  and  his  crew  re- 
ceived chaffing  with  balefully  red  glares.    Next  day 

282 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

they  stood  at  the  top  by  a  good  margin,  and  always 
after  were  competitors  to  be  feared. 

Injin  Charley,  silent  and  enigmatical  as  ever,  had 
constructed  a  log  shack  near  a  little  creek  over  in  the 
hardwood.  There  he  attended  diligently  to  the  busi- 
ness of  trapping.  Thorpe  had  brought  him  a  deer 
knife  from  Detroit ;  a  beautiful  instrument  made  of 
the  best  tool  steel,  in  one  long  piece  extending 
through  the  buck-horn  handle.  One  could  even 
break  bones  with  it.  He  had  also  lent  the  Indian 
the  assistance  of  two  of  his  Marquette  men  in  erect- 
ing the  shanty;  and  had  given  him  a  barrel  of  flour 
for  the  winter.  From  time  to  time  Injin  Charley 
brought  in  fresh  meat,  for  which  he  was  paid.  This 
with  his  trapping,  and  his  manufacture  of  moccasins, 
snowshoes  and  birch  canoes,  made  him  a  very  pros- 
perous Indian  indeed.  Thorpe  rarely  found  time  to 
visit  him,  but  he  often  glided  into  the  office,  smoked 
a  pipeful  of  the  white  man's  tobacco  in  friendly 
fashion  by  the  stove,  and  glided  out  again  without 
having  spoken  a  dozen  words. 

Wallace  made  one  visit  before  the  big  snows 
came,  and  was  charmed.  He  ate  with  gusto  of  the 
"  salt-horse,"  baked  beans,  stewed  prunes,  mince 
pie,  and  cakes.  He  tramped  around  gaily  in  his 
moccasins  or  on  the  fancy  snowshoes  he  promptly 
purchased  of  Injin  Charley.  There  was  nothing 
new  to  report  in  regard  to  financial  matters.  The 
loan  had  been  negotiated  easily  on  the  basis  of  a 

283 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

mortgage  guaranteed  by  Carpenter's  personal  signa- 
ture. Nothing  had  been  heard  from  Morrison  & 
Daly. 

When  he  departed,  he  left  behind  him  four  little 
long-eared,  short-legged  beagle  hounds.  They  were 
solemn  animals,  who  took  life  seriously.  Never  a 
smile  appeared  in  their  questioning  eyes.  Wherever 
one  went,  the  others  followed,  pattering  gravely 
along  in  serried  ranks.  Soon  they  discovered  that 
the  swamp  over  the  knoll  contained  big  white  hares. 
Their  mission  in  life  was  evident.  Thereafter  from 
the  earliest  peep  of  daylight  until  the  men  quit  work 
at  night  they  chased  rabbits.  The  quest  was  hope- 
less, but  they  kept  obstinately  at  it,  wallowing  with 
contained  excitement  over  a  hundred  paces  of  snow 
before  they  would  get  near  enough  to  scare  their 
quarry  to  another  jump.  It  used  to  amuse  the  hares. 
AH  day  long  the  mellow  bell-tones  echoed  over  the 
knoll.  It  came  in  time  to  be  part  of  the  color  of  the 
camp,  just  as  were  the  pines  and  birches,  or  the  cold 
northern  sky.  At  the  fall  of  night,  exhausted,  trail- 
ing their  long  ears  almost  to  the  ground,  they  re- 
turned to  the  cook,  who  fed  them  and  made  much 
of  them.  Next  morning  they  were  at  it  as  hard  as 
ever.  To  them  it  was  the  quest  for  the  Grail — 
hopeless,  but  glorious. 

Little  Phil,  entrusted  with  the  alarm  clock,  was 
the  first  up  in  the  morning.  In  the  fearful  biting 
cold  of  an  extinct  camp,  he  lighted  his  lantern  and 

284 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

with  numb  hands  raked  the  ashes  from  the  stove.  A 
few  sticks  of  dried  pine  topped  by  split  wood  of 
birch  or'maple,  all  well  dashed  with  kerosene,  took 
the  flame  eagerly.  Then  he  awakened  the  cook,  and 
stole  silently  into  the  office,  where  Thorpe  and 
Shearer  and  Andrews,  the  surveyor,  lay  asleep. 
There  quietly  he  built  another  fire,  and  filled  the 
water-pail  afresh.  By  the  time  this  task  was  fin- 
ished, the  cook  sounded  many  times  a  conch,  and  the 
sleeping  camp  awoke. 

Later  Phil  drew  water  for  the  other  shanties, 
swept  out  all  three,  split  wood  and  carried  it  in  to 
the  cook  and  to  the  living-camps,  filled  and  trimmed 
the  lamps,  perhaps  helped  the  cook.  About  half  the 
remainder  of  the  day  he  wielded  an  axe,  saw  and 
wedge  in  the  hardwood,  collecting  painfully — for 
his  strength  was  not  great — material  for  the  con- ( 
stant  fires  it  was  his  duty  to  maintain.  Often  he 
would  stand  motionless  in  the  vast  frozen,  creaking 
forest,  listening  with  awe  to  the  voices  which  spoke 
to  him  alone.  There  was  something  uncanny  in  the 
misshapen  dwarf  with  the  fixed  marble-white  face 
and  the  expressive  changing  eyes — something  un- 
canny, and  something  indefinably  beautiful. 

He  seemed  to  possess  an  instinct  which  warned 
him  of  the  approach  of  wild  animals.  Long  before 
a  white  man,  or  even  an  Indian,  would  have  sus- 
pected the  presence  of  game,  little  Phil  would  lift 
his  head  with  a  peculiar  listening  toss.     Soon,  step- 

285 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

ping  daintily  through  the  snow  near  the  swamp  -edge, 
would  come  a  deer;  or  pat-apat-patting  on  his  broad 
hairy  paws,  a  lynx  would  steal  by.  Except  Injin 
Charley,  Phil  was  the  only  man  in  that  country  who 
ever  saw  a  beaver  in  the  open  daylight. 

At  camp  sometimes  when  all  the  men  were  away 
and  his  own  work  was  done,  he  would  crouch  like  a 
raccoon  in  the  far  corner  of  his  deep  square  bunk 
with  the  board  ends  that  made  of  it  a  sort  of  little 
cabin,  and  play  to  himself  softly  on  his  violin.  No 
one  ever  heard  him.  After  supper  he  was  docilely 
ready  to  fiddle  to  the  men's  dancing.  Always  then 
he  gradually  worked  himself  to  a  certain  pitch  of 
excitement.  His  eyes  glared  with  the  wolf-gleam, 
and  the  music  was  vulgarly  atrocious  and  out  of 
tune. 

As  Christmas  drew  near,  the  weather  increased 
in  severity.  Blinding  snow-squalls  swept  whirling 
from  the  northeast,  accompanied  by  a  high  wind. 
The  air  was  full  of  it — fine,  dry,  powdery,  like  the 
dust  of  glass.  The  men  worked  covered  with  it  as 
a  tree  is  covered  after  a  sleet.  Sometimes  it  was 
impossible  to  work  at  all  for  hours  at  a  time;  but 
Thorpe  did  not  allow  a  bad  morning  to  spoil  a  good 
afternoon.  The  instant  a  lull  fell  on  the  storm,  he 
was  out  with  his  scaling  rule,  and  he  expected  the 
men  to  give  him  something  to  scale.  He  grappled 
the  fierce  winter  by  the  throat,  and  shook  from  it  the 
price  of  success. 

286 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

Then  came  a  succession  of  bright  cold  days  and 
clear  cold  nights.  The  aurora  gleamed  so  brilliantly 
that  the  forest  was  as  bright  as  by  moonlight.  In 
the  strange  weird  shadow  cast  by  its  waverings  the 
wolves  stole  silently,  or  broke  into  wild  ululations 
as  they  struck  the  trail  of  game.  Except  for  these 
weird  invaders,  the  silence  of  death  fell  on  the  wil- 
derness. Deer  left  the  country.  Partridges  crouched 
trailing  under  the  snow.  All  the  weak  and  timid 
creatures  of  the  woods  shrank  into  concealment  and 
silence  before  these  fierce  woods-marauders  with  the 
glaring  famine-struck  eyes. 

Injin  Charley  found  his  traps  robbed.  In  return 
he  constructed  deadfalls,  and  dried  several  scalps. 
When  spring  came,  he  would  send  them  out  for  the 
bounty.  In  the  night,  from  time  to  time,  the  horses 
would  awake  trembling  at  an  unknown  terror.  Then 
the  long  weird  howl  would  shiver  across  the  star- 
light near  at  hand,  and  the  chattering  man  who  rose 
hastily  to  quiet  the  horses'  frantic  kicking  would 
catch  a  glimpse  of  gaunt  forms  skirting  the  edge  of 
the  forest. 

And  the  little  beagles  were  disconsolate,  for  their 
quarry  had  fled.  In  place  of  the  fan-shaped  trian- 
gular trail  for  which  they  sought,  they  came  upon 
dog-like  prints.  These  they  sniffed  at  curiously,  and 
then  departed  growling,  the  hair  on  their  backbones 
srect  and  stiff. 


287 


CHAPTER    THIRTY-TWO 

BY  the  end  of  the  winter  some  four  million  feet 
of  logs  were  piled  in  the  bed  or  upon  the  banks 
of  the  stream.  To  understand  what  that  means, 
you  must  imagine  a  pile  of  solid  timber  a  mile  in 
length.  This  tremendous  mass  lay  directly  in  the 
course  of  the  stream.  When  the  winter  broke  up, 
it  had  to  be  separated  and  floated  piecemeal  down 
the  current.  The  process  is  an  interesting  and  dan- 
gerous one,  and  one  of  great  delicacy.  It  requires 
for  its  successful  completion  picked  men  of  skill, 
and  demands  as  toll  its  yearly  quota  of  cripples  and 
dead.  While  on  the  drive,  men  work  fourteen  hours 
a  day,  up  to  their  waists  in  water  filled  with  floating 
ice. 

On  the  Ossawinamakee,  as  has  been  stated,  three 
dams  had  been  erected  to  simplify  the  process  of 
driving.  When  the  logs  were  in  right  distribution, 
the  gates  were  raised,  and  the  proper  head  of  water 
floated  them  down. 

Now  the  river  being  navigable,  Thorpe  was  pos- 
sessed of  certain  rights  on  it.  Technically  he  was 
entitled  to  a  normal  head  of  water,  whenever  he 
needed  it;  or  a  special  head,  according  to  agreement 
1  vith  the  parties  owning  the  dam.  Early  in  the  drive, 

288 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

he  found  that  Morrison  &  Daly  intended  to  cause 
him  trouble.  It  began  in  a  narrows  of  the  river 
between  high,  rocky  banks.  Thorpe's  drive  was 
floating  through  close-packed.  The  situation  was 
ticklish.  Men  with  spiked  boots  ran  here  and  there 
from  one  bobbing  log  to  another,  pushing  with  their 
peaveys,  hurrying  one  log,  retarding  another,  work- 
ing like  beavers  to  keep  the  whole  mass  straight. 
The  entire  surface  of  the  water  was  practically  cov- 
ered with  the  floating  timbers.  A  moment's  reflec- 
tion will  show  the  importance  of  preserving  a  full 
head  of  water.  The  moment  the  stream  should  drop 
an  inch  or  so,  its  surface  would  contract,  the  logs 
would  then  be  drawn  close  together  in  the  narrow 
space;  and,  unless  an  immediate  rise  should  lift 
them  up  and  apart  from  each  other,  a  jam  would 
form,  behind  which  the  water,  rapidly  damming, 
would  press  to  entangle  it  the  more. 

This  is  exactly  what  happened.  In  a  moment,  as 
though  by  magic,  the  loose  wooden  carpet  ground 
together.  A  log  in  the  advance  up-ended;  another 
thrust  under  it.  The  whole  mass  ground  together, 
stopped,  and  began  rapidly  to  pile  up.  The  men 
escaped  to  the  shore  in  a  marvellous  manner  of  their 
own. 

Tim  Shearer  found  that  the  gate  at  the  dam 
above  had  been  closed.  The  man  in  charge  had 
simply  obeyed  orders.  He  supposed  M.  &  D.  wished 
to  back  up  the  water  for  their  own  logs. 

289 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Tim  indulged  in  some  picturesque  language. 

"  You  ain't  got  no  right  to  close  off  more'n  enough 
to  leave  us  th'  nat'ral  flow  unless  by  agreement,"  he 
concluded,  and  opened  the  gates. 

Then  it  was  a  question  of  breaking  the  jam.  This 
had  to  be  done  by  pulling  out  or  chopping  through 
certain  "  key  "  logs  which  locked  the  whole  mass. 
Men  stood  under  the  face  of  imminent  ruin — over 
them  a  frowning  sheer  wall  of  bristling  logs,  behind 
v/hich  pressed  the  weight  of  the  rising  waters — and 
hacked  and  tugged  calmly  until  the  mass  began  to 
stir.  Then  they  escaped.  A  moment  later,  with  a 
roar,  the  jam  vomited  down  on  the  spot  where  they 
had  stood.  It  was  dangerous  work.  Just  one  half 
day  later  it  had  to  be  done  again,  and  for  the  same 
reason. 

This  time  Thorpe  went  back  with  Shearer.  No 
one  was  at  the  dam,  but  the  gates  were  closed.  The 
two  opened  them  again. 

That  very  evening  a  man  rode  up  on  horseback 
inquiring  for  Mr.  Thorpe. 

"  I'm  he,"  said  the  young  fellow. 

The  man  thereupon  dismounted  and  served  a 
paper.  It  proved  to  be  an  injunction  issued  by 
Judge  Sherman  enjoining  Thorpe  against  interfering 
with  the  property  of  Morrison  &  Daly — to  wit,  cer- 
tain dams  erected  at  designated  points  on  the  Ossa- 
winamakee.  There  had  not  elapsed  sufficient  time 
since  the  commission  of  the  offense  for  the  other  firm 

290 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

to  secure  the  issuance  of  this  interesting  document, 
so  it  was  at  once  evident  that  the  whole  affair  had 
been  prearranged  by  the  up-river  firm  for  the  pur- 
pose of  blocking  off  Thorpe's  drive.  After  serving 
the  injunction,  the  official  rode  away. 

Thorpe  called  his  foreman.  The  latter  read  the 
injunction  attentively  through  a  pair  of  steel-bowed 
spectacles. 

"  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do*?  "  he  asked. 

"  Of  all  the  consummate  gall !  "  exploded  Thorpe. 
*"'  Trying  to  enjoin  me  from  touching  a  dam  when 
they're  refusing  me  the  natural  flow!  They  must 
have  bribed  that  fool  judge.  Why,  his  injunction 
isn't  worth  the  powder  to  blow  it  up !  " 

"Then  you're  all  right,  ain't  ye?"  inquired 
Tim. 

"  It'll  be  the  middle  of  summer  before  we  get  a 
hearing  in  court,"  said  he.  "  Oh,  they're  a  cute  lay- 
out !  They  expect  to  hang  me  up  until  it's  too  late 
to  do  anything  with  the  season's  cut !  " 

He  arose  and  began  to  pace  back  and  forth. 

"  Tim,"  said  he,  "  is  there  a  man  in  the  crew 
who's  afraid  of  nothing  and  will  obey  orders'?  " 

"  A  dozen,"  replied  Tim  promptly. 

"  Who's  the  best?  " 

"  Scotty  Parsons." 

"  Ask  him  to  step  here." 

In  a  moment  the  man  entered  the  office. 

"  Scotty,"  said  Thorpe,  "  I  want  you  to  under- 
291 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

5tand  that  I  stand  responsible  for  whatever  I  order 
you  to  do." 

"  All  right,  sir,"  replied  the  man. 

"  In  the  morning,"  said  Thorpe,  "  you  take  two 
men  and  build  some  sort  of  a  shack  right  over  the 
sluice-gate  of  that  second  dam — nothing  very  fancy, 
but  good  enough  to  camp  in.  I  want  you  to  live 
there  day  and  night.  Never  leave  it,  not  even  for  a 
minute.  The  cookee  will  bring  you  grub.  Take  this 
Winchester.  If  any  of  the  men  from  up-river  try 
to  go  out  on  the  dam,  you  warn  them  off.  If  they 
persist,  you  shoot  near  them.  If  they  keep  coming, 
you  shoot  at  them.    Understand?  " 

"  You  bet,"  answered  Scotty  with  enthusiasm. 

"  All  right,"  concluded  Thorpe. 

Next  day  Scotty  established  himself,  as  had  been 
agreed.  He  did  not  need  to  shoot  anybody.  Daly 
himself  came  down  to  investigate  the  state  of  affairs, 
when  his  men  reported  to  him  the  occupancy  of  the 
dam.  He  attempted  to  parley,  but  Scotty  would 
have  none  of  it. 

"  Get  out !  "  was  his  first  and  last  word. 

Daly  knew  men.  He  was  at  the  wrong  end  of  the 
whip.  Thorpe's  game  was  desperate,  but  so  was  his 
need,  and  this  was  a  backwoods  country  a  long  ways 
from  the  little  technicalities  of  the  law.  It  was  one 
thing  to  serve  an  injunction;  another  to  enforce  it. 
Thorpe  finished  his  drive  with  no  more  of  the  diffi' 
culties  than  ordinarily  bother  a  riverman. 

292 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

At  the  mouth  of  the  river,  booms  of  logs  chained 
together  at  the  ends  had  been  prepared.  Into  the 
enclosure  the  drive  was  floated  and  stopped.  Then 
a  raft  was  formed  by  passing  new  manila  ropes  over 
the  logs,  to  each  one  of  which  the  line  was  fastened 
by  a  hardwood  forked  pin  driven  astride  of  it.  A 
tug  dragged  the  raft  to  Marquette. 

Now  Thorpe  was  summoned  legally  on  two 
counts.  First,  Judge  Sherman  cited  him  for  con- 
tempt of  court.  Second,  Morrison  &  Daly  sued  him 
for  alleged  damages  in  obstructing  their  drive  by 
holding  open  the  dam-sluice  beyond  the  legal  head 
of  water. 

Such  is  a  brief  but  true  account  of  the  coup-de- 
force actually  carried  out  by  Thorpe's  lumbering 
firm  in  northern  Michigan.  It  is  better  known  to 
the  craft  than  to  the  public  at  large,  because  eventu- 
ally the  affair  was  compromised.  The  manner  of 
that  compromise  is  to  follow. 


293 


CHAPTER    THIRTY-THREE 

PENDING  the  call  of  trial,  Thorpe  took  a  three 
weeks'  vacation  to  visit  his  sister.  Time, 
.illed  with  excitement  and  responsibility,  had  erased 
from  his  mind  the  bitterness  of  their  parting. 
He  had  before  been  too  busy,  too  grimly  in  ear- 
nest, to  allow  himself  the  luxury  of  anticipation. 
Now  he  found  himself  so  impatient  that  he 
could  hardly  wait  to  get  there.  He  pictured 
their  meeting,  the  things  they  would  say  to  each 
other. 

As  formerly,  he  learned  on  his  arrival  that  she 
was  not  at  home.  It  was  the  penalty  of  an  at- 
tempted surprise.  Mrs.  Renwick  proved  not  nearly 
so  cordial  as  the  year  before;  but  Thorpe,  absorbed 
in  his  eagerness,  did  not  notice  it.  If  he  had,  he 
might  have  guessed  the  truth:  that  the  long  pro- 
pinquity of  the  fine  and  the  commonplace,  however 
safe  at  first  from  the  insulation  of  breeding  and 
natural  kindliness,  was  at  last  beginning  to  generate 
sparks. 

No,  Mrs.  Renwick  did  not  know  where  Helen 
was:  thought  she  had  gone  over  to  the  Hughes's. 
The  Hughes  live  two  blocks  down  the  street  and 

294 


.THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

three  to  the  right,  in  a  brown  house  back  from  the 
street.  Very  well,  then;  she  would  expect  Mr. 
Thorpe  to  spend  the  night. 

The  latter  wandered  slowly  down  the  charming 
driveways  of  the  little  western  town.  The  broad 
dusty  street  was  brown  with  sprinkling  from  num- 
berless garden  hose.  A  double  row  of  big  soft 
maples  met  over  it,  and  shaded  the  sidewalk  and 
part  of  the  wide  lawns.  The  grass  was  fresh  and 
green.  Houses  with  capacious  verandas  on  which 
were  glimpsed  easy  chairs  and  hammocks,  sent  forth 
a  mild  glow  from  a  silk-shaded  lamp  or  two.  Across 
the  evening  air  floated  the  sounds  of  light  conversa- 
tion and  laughter  from  these  verandas,  the  tinkle  of 
a  banjo,  the  thrum  of  a  guitar.  Automatic  sprink- 
lers whirled  and  hummed  here  and  there.  Their 
delicious  artificial  coolness  struck  refreshingly 
against  the  cheek. 

Thorpe  found  the  Hughes  residence  without  dif- 
ficulty, and  turned  up  the  straight  walk  to  the 
veranda.  On  the  steps  of  the  latter  a  rug  had  been 
spread.  A  dozen  youths  and  maidens  lounged  in 
well-bred  ease  on  its  soft  surface.  The  gleam  of 
white  summer  dresses,  of  variegated  outing  clothes, 
the  rustle  of  frocks,  the  tinkle  of  low,  well-bred 
laughter  confused  Thorpe,  so  that,  as  he  approached 
the  light  from  a  tall  lamp  just  inside  the  hall,  he 
hesitated,  vainly  trying  to  make  out  the  figures  be* 
fore  him. 

295 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

So  it  was  that  Helen  Thorpe  saw  him  first,  and 
came  fluttering  to  meet  him. 

"O  Harry!  What  a  surprise!  "  she  cried,  and 
flung  her  arms  about  his  neck  to  kiss  him. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Helen,"  he  replied  sedately. 

This  was  the  meeting  he  had  anticipated  so  long. 
The  presence  of  others  brought  out  in  him,  irresist- 
ibly, the  repression  of  public  display  which  was  so 
strong  an  element  of  his  character. 

A  little  chilled,  Helen  turned  to  introduce  him 
to  her  friends.  In  the  cold  light  of  her  common- 
place reception  she  noticed  what  in  a  warmer  effusion 
of  feelings  she  would  never  have  seen — that  her 
brother's  clothes  were  out  of  date  and  worn;  and 
that,  though  his  carriage  was  notably  strong  and 
graceful,  the  trifling  constraint  and  dignity  of  his 
younger  days  had  become  almost  an  awkwardness 
after  two  years  among  uncultivated  men.  It  oc- 
curred to  Helen  to  be  just  a  little  ashamed  of  him. 

He  took  a  place  on  the  steps  and  sat  without  say- 
ing a  word  all  the  evening.  There  was  nothing  for 
him  to  say.  These  young  people  talked  thought- 
lessly, as  young  people  do,  of  the  affairs  belonging 
to  their  own  little  circle.  Thorpe  knew  nothing  of 
the  cotillion,  or  the  brake  ride,  or  of  the  girl  who 
visited  Alice  Southerland;  all  of  which  gave  occa- 
sion for  so  much  lively  comment.  Nor  was  the  sit- 
uation improved  when  some  of  them,  in  a  noble 
effort  at  politeness    turned  the  conversation  into 

296 


"THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

more  general  channels.  The  topics  of  the  day's  light 
talk  were  absolutely  unknown  to  him.  The  plays, 
the  new  books,  the  latest  popular  songs,  jokes  de- 
pending for  their  point  on  an  intimate  knowledge 
of  the  prevailing  vaudeville  mode,  were  as  unfamil- 
iar to  him  as  Miss  Alice  Southerland's  guest.  He 
had  thought  pine  and  forest  and  the  trail  so  long, 
that  he  found  these  square-elbowed  subjects  refusing 
to  be  jostled  aside  by  any  trivialities. 

So  he  sat  there  silent  in  the  semi-darkness.  This 
man,  whose  lightest  experience  would  have  aroused 
the  eager  attention  of  the  entire  party,  held  his  peace 
because  he  thought  he  had  nothing  to  say. 

He  took  Helen  back  to  Mrs.  Renwick's  about  ten 
o'clock.  They  walked  slowly  beneath  the  broad- 
leaved  maples,  whose  shadows  danced  under  the  tall 
electric  lights — and  talked. 

Helen  was  an  affectionate,  warm-hearted  girl. 
/Ordinarily  she  would  have  been  blind  to  everything 
except  the  delight  of  having  her  brother  once  more 
with  her.  But  his  apparently  cold  reception  had 
first  chilled,  then  thrown  her  violently  into  a  critical 
mood.  His  subsequent  social  inadequacy  had  settled 
her  into  the  common-sense  level  of  everyday  life. 

"  How  have  you  done,  Harry"? "  she  inquired 
anxiously.     "  Your  letters  have  been  so  vague." 

"  Pretty  well,"  he  replied.  "  If  things  go  right, 
I  hope  some  day  to  have  a  better  place  for  you  than 
this." 

297 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Her  heart  contracted  suddenly.  It  was  all  she 
could  do  to  keep  from  bursting  into  tears.  One 
would  have  to  realize  perfectly  her  youth,  the  life 
to  which  she  had  been  accustomed,  the  lack  of  en- 
couragement she  had  labored  under,  the  distasteful- 
ness  of  her  surroundings,  the  pent-up  dogged  pa- 
tience she  had  displayed  during  the  last  two  years, 
the  hopeless  feeling  of  battering  against  a  brick  wall 
she  always  experienced  when  she  received  the  replies 
to  her  attempts  on  Harry's  confidence,  to  appreciate 
how  the  indefiniteness  of  his  answer  exasperated  her 
and  filled  her  with  sullen  despair.  She  said  nothing 
for  twenty  steps.     Then: 

"  Harry,"  she  said  quietly,  "  can't  you  take  me 
away  from  Mrs.  Renwick's  this  year*? " 

"  I  don't  know,  Helen.  I  can't  tell  yet.  Not  just 
now,  at  any  rate." 

"  Harry,"  she  cried,  "  you  don't  know  what  you're 
doing.  I  tell  you  I  can't  stand  Mrs.  Renwick  any 
longer."  She  calmed  herself  with  an  effort,  and 
went  on  more  quietly.  "  Really,  Harry,  she's  aw- 
fully disagreeable.  If  you  can't  afford  to  keep  me 
anywhere  else — "  she  glanced  timidly  at  his  face 
and  for  the  first  time  saw  the  strong  lines  about  the 
jaw  and  the  tiny  furrows  between  the  eyebrows.  "  I 
know  you've  worked  hard,  Harry  dear,"  she  said 
with  a  sudden  sympathy,  "  and  that  you'd  give  me 
more,  if  you  could.  But  so  have  I  worked  hard. 
Now  we  ought  to  change  this  in  some  way.     I  can 

298 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

get  a  position  as  teacher,  or  some  other  work  some- 
where.    Won't  you  let  me  do  that?" 

Thorpe  was  thinking  that  it  would  be  easy  enough 
to  obtain  Wallace  Carpenter's  consent  to  his  taking 
a  thousand  dollars  from  the  profits  of  the  year.  But 
he  knew  also  that  the  struggle  in  the  courts  might 
need  every  cent  the  new  company  could  spare.  It 
would  look  much  better  were  he  to  wait  until  after 
the  verdict.  If  favorable,  there  would  be  no  diffi- 
culty about  sparing  the  money.  If  adverse,  there 
would  be  no  money  to  spare.  The  latter  contingency 
he  did  not  seriously  anticipate,  but  still  it  had  to  be 
considered.  And  so,  until  the  thing  was  absolutely 
certain,  he  hesitated  to  explain  the  situation  to 
Helen  for  fear  of  disappointing  her ! 

"  I  think  you'd  better  wait,  Helen,"  said  he. 
"  There'll  be  time  enough  for  all  that  later  when  it 
becomes  necessary.  You  are  very  young  yet,  and  it 
will  not  hurt  you  a  bit  to  continue  your  education 
for  a  little  while  longer." 

"  And  in  the  meantime  stay  with  Mrs.  Ren- 
wick?  "  flashed  Helen. 

"  Yes.  I  hope  it  will  not  have  to  be  for  very 
long." 

"  How  long  do  you  think,  Harry?  "  pleaded  the 
girl. 

"  That  depends  on  circumstances,"  replied 
Thorpe. 

"  Oh!  "  she  cried  indignantly. 
299 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  Harry,"  she  ventured  after  a  time,  "  why  not 
write  to  Uncle  Amos?  " 

Thorpe  stopped  and  looked  at  her  searchingly. 

"  You  can't  mean  that,  Helen,"  he  said,  drawing 
a  long  breath. 

"  But  why  not?  "  she  persisted. 

"  You  ought  to  know." 

"Who  would  have  done  any  different?  If  you 
had  a  brother  and  discovered  that  he  had — appro- 
priated— most  all  the  money  of  a  concern  of  which 
you  were  president,  wouldn't  you  think  it  your  duty 
to  have  him  arrested  ?  " 

"  No !  "  cried  Thorpe  suddenly  excited.  "  Never! 
If  he  was  my  brother,  I'd  help  him,  even  if  he'd 
committed  murder !  " 

"We  differ  there,"  replied  the  girl  coldly.  "I 
consider  that  Uncle  Amos  was  a  strong  man  who 
did  his  duty  as  he  saw  it,  in  spite  of  his  feelings. 
That  he  had  father  arrested  is  nothing  against  him 
in  my  eyes.  And  his  wanting  us  to  come  to  him 
since  seems  to  me  very  generous.  I  am  going  to 
write  to  him." 

"  You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  commanded 
Thorpe  sternly.  "  Amos  Thorpe  is  an  unscrupulous 
man  who  became  unscrupulously  rich.  He  deliber- 
ately used  our  father  as  a  tool,  and  then  destroyed 
him.  I  consider  that  any  one  of  our  family  who 
would  have  anything  to  do  with  him  is  a  traitor !  " 

The  girl  did  not  reply. 

300 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

Next  morning  Thorpe  felt  uneasily  repentant  for 
his  strong  language.  After  all,  the  girl  did  lead  a 
monotonous  life,  and  he  could  not  blame  her  for 
rebelling  against  it  from  time  to  time.  Her  remarks 
had  been  born  of  the  rebellion;  they  had  meant 
nothing  in  themselves.  He  could  not  doubt  for  a 
moment  her  loyalty  to  the  family. 

But  he  did  not  tell  her  so.  That  is  not  the  way 
of  men  of  his  stamp.  Rather  he  cast  about  to  see 
what  he  could  do. 

Injin  Charley  had,  during  the  winter  just  past, 
occupied  odd  moments  in  embroidering  with  beads 
and  porcupine  quills  a  wonderful  outfit  of  soft  buck- 
skin gauntlets,  a  shirt  of  the  same  material,  and 
moccasins  of  moose-hide.  They  were  beautifully 
worked,  and  Thorpe,  on  receiving  them,  had  at  once 
conceived  the  idea  of  giving  them  to  his  sister.  To 
this  end  he  had  consulted  another  Indian  near  Mar- 
quette, to  whom  he  had  confided  the  task  of  reducing 
the  gloves  and  moccasins.  The  shirt  would  do  as  it 
was,  for  it  was  intended  to  be  worn  as  a  sort  of 
belted  blouse.  As  has  been  said,  all  were  thickly 
beaded,  and  represented  a  vast  quantity  of  work. 
Probably  fifty  dollars  could  not  have  bought  them, 
even  in  the  north  country. 

Thorpe  tendered  this  as  a  peace  offering.  Not 
understanding  women  in  the  least,  he  was  surprised 
to  see  his  gift  received  by  a  burst  of  tears  and  a 
sudden  exit  from  the  room.    Helen  thought  he  had 

301 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

bought  the  things;  and  she  was  still  sore  from  the 
pinch  of  the  poverty  she  had  touched  the  evening 
before.  Nothing  will  exasperate  a  woman  more 
than  to  be  presented  with  something  expensive  for 
which  she  does  not  particularly  care,  after  being 
denied,  on  the  ground  of  economy,  something  she 
wants  very  much. 

Thorpe  stared  after  her  in  hurt  astonishment. 
Mrs.  Renwick  sniffed. 

That  afternoon  the  latter  estimable  lady  at' 
tempted  to  reprove  Miss  Helen,  and  was  snubbed; 
she  persisted,  and  an  open  quarrel  ensued. 

"  I  will  not  be  dictated  to  by  you,  Mrs.  Ren- 
wick," said  Helen,  "  and  I  don't  intend  to  have  you 
interfere  in  any  way  with  my  family  affairs." 

"  They  won't  stand  much  investigation,"  replied 
Mrs.  Renwick,  goaded  out  of  her  placidity. 

Thorpe  entered  to  hear  the  last  two  speeches.  He 
said  nothing,  but  that  night  he  wrote  to  Wallace 
Carpenter  for  a  thousand  dollars.  Every  stroke  of 
the  pen  hurt  him.  But  of  course  Helen  could  not 
stay  here  now. 

"  And  to  think,  just  to  think  that  he  let  that 
woman  insult  me  so,  and  didn't  say  a  word !  "  cried 
Helen  to  herself. 

Her  method  would  have  been  to  have  acted  ir- 
revocably on  the  spot,  and  sought  ways  and  means 
afterward.  Thorpe's,  however,  was  to  perfect  all 
his  plans  before  making  the  first  step. 

302 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

Wallace  Carpenter  was  not  in  town.  Before  the 
letter  had  followed  him  to  his  new  address,  and  the 
answer  had  returned,  a  week  had  passed.  Of  course 
the  money  was  gladly  put  at  Thorpe's  disposal. 
The  latter  at  once  interviewed  his  sister. 

"  Helen,"  he  said,  "  I  have  made  arrangements 
for  some  money.  What  would  you  like  to  do  this 
year?" 

She  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  him  with  clear 
bright  gaze.  If  he  could  so  easily  raise  the  money, 
why  had  he  not  done  so  before?  He  knew  how 
much  she  wanted  it.  Her  happiness  did  not  count. 
Only  when  his  quixotic  ideas  of  family  honor  were 
attacked  did  he  bestir  himself. 

"  I  am  going  to  Uncle  Amos's,"  she  replied  dis- 
tinctly. 

"  What?  "  asked  Thorpe  incredulously. 

For  answer  she  pointed  to  a  letter  lying  open  on 
the  table.    Thorpe  took  it  and  read: 

"  My  dear  Niece : 

"  Both  Mrs.  Thorpe  and  myself  more  than  rejoice 
iiat  time  and  reflection  have  removed  that,  I  must 
confess,  natural  prejudice  which  the  unfortunate 
family  affair,  to  which  I  will  not  allude,  raised  in 
your  mind  against  us.  As  we  said  long  ago,  our 
home  is  yours  when  you  may  wish  to  make  it  so. 
You  state  your  present  readiness  to  come  immedi- 
ately.    Unless  you  wire  to  the  contrary,  we  shall 

303 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

expect  you  next  Tuesday  evening  on  the  four:forty 
train.  I  shall  be  at  the  Central  Station  myself  to 
meet  you.  If  your  brother  is  now  with  you,  I  should 
be  pleased  to  see  him  also,  and  will  be  most  happy 
to  give  him  a  position  with  the  firm. 

"Aff.  your  uncle, 

"  Amos  Thorpe. 
"New  York,  June  6,  1883." 

On  finishing  the  last  paragraph  the  reader  crum- 
pled the  letter  and  threw  it  into  the  grate. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  did  that,  Helen,"  said  he,  "  but  I 
don't  blame  you,  and  it  can't  be  helped.  We  won't 
need  to  take  advantage  of  his  '  kind  offer  '  now." 

"  I  intend  to  do  so,  however,"  replied  the  girl 
coldly. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  mean,"  she  cried,  "  that  I  am  sick  of  waiting 
on  your  good  pleasure.  I  waited,  and  slaved,  and 
stood  unbearable  things  for  two  years.  I  did  it 
cheerfully.  And  in  return  I  don't  get  a  civil  word, 
not  a  decent  explanation,  not  even  a — caress,"  she 
fairly  sobbed  out  the  last  word.  "  I  can't  stand  it 
any  longer.  I  have  tried  and  tried  and  tried,  and 
then  when  I've  come  to  you  for  the  littlest  word  of 
encouragement,  you  have  pecked  at  me  with  those 
stingy  little  kisses,  and  have  told  me  I  was  young 
and  ought  to  finish  my  education !  You  put  me  in 
uncongenial  surroundings,  and  go  off  into  the  woods 

304 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

camping  yourself.  You  refuse  me  money  enough  to 
live  in  a  three-dollar  boarding-house,  and  you  buy 
expensive  rifles  and  fishing  tackle  for  yourself.  You 
can't  afford  to  send  me  away  somewhere  for  the 
summer,  but  you  bring  me  back  gee-gaws  you  have 
happened  to  fancy,  worth  a  month's  board  in  the 
country.  You  haven't  a  cent  when  it  is  a  question 
of  what  I  want;  but  you  raise  money  quick  enough 
when  your  old  family  is  insulted.  Isn't  it  my  family 
too1?  And  then  you  blame  me  because,  after  wait- 
ing in  vain  two  years  for  you  to  do  something,  I 
start  out  to  do  the  best  I  can  for  myself.  I'm  not  of 
age;  but  you're  not  my  guardian!  " 

During  this  long  speech  Thorpe  had  stood  motion- 
less, growing  paler  and  paler.  Like  most  noble 
natures,  when  absolutely  in  the  right,  he  was  in- 
capable of  defending  himself  against  misunderstand- 
ings.   He  was  too  wounded;  he  was  hurt  to  the  soul. 

"  You  know  that  is  not  true,  Helen,"  he  replied, 
almost  sternly. 

"It  is  true!"  she  asseverated,  "and  I'm 
through !  " 

"  It's  a  little  hard,"  said  Thorpe,  passing  his  hand 
wearily  before  his  eyes,  "  to  work  hard  this  way  for 
years,  and  then " 

She  laughed  with  a  hard  little  note  of  scorn. 

"  Helen,"  said  Thorpe  with  new  energy,  "  I  for- 
bid you  to  have  anything  to  do  with  Amos  Thorpe. 
I  think  he  is  a  scoundrel  and  a  sneak." 

305 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"What  grounds  have  you  to  think  so?  " 

"  None,"  he  confessed,  "  that  is,  nothing  definite. 
But  I  know  men ;  and  I  know  his  type.  Some  day  I 
shall  be  able  to  prove  something.  I  do  not  wish  you 
to  have  anything  to  do  with  him." 

"  I  shall  do  as  I  please,"  she  replied,  crossing  her 
hands  behind  her. 

Thorpe's  eyes  darkened. 

"  We  have  talked  this  over  a  great  many  times," 
he  warned,  "  and  you've  always  agreed  with  me. 
Remember,  you  owe  something  to  the  family." 

"  Most  of  the  family  seem  to  owe  something," 
she  replied  with  a  flippant  laugh.  "  I'm  sure  I 
didn't  choose  the  family.  If  I  had,  I'd  have  picked 
out  a  better  one !  " 

The  flippancy  was  only  a  weapon  which  she  used 
unconsciously,  blindly,  in  her  struggle.  The  man 
could  not  know  this.  His  face  hardened,  and  his 
voice  grew  cold. 

"  You  may  take  your  choice,  Helen,"  he  said  for- 
mally. "  If  you  go  into  the  household  of  Amos 
Thorpe,  if  you  deliberately  prefer  your  comfort  to 
your  honor,  we  will  have  nothing  more  in  common." 

They  faced  each  other  with  the  cool,  deadly 
glance  of  the  race,  so  similar  in  appearance  but  so 
unlike  in  nature. 

V  I,  too,  offer  you  a  home,  such  as  it  is,"  repeated 
the  man.     "  Choose !  " 

At  the  mention  of  the  home  for  which  means  were 
306 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

so  quickly  forthcoming  when  Thorpe,  not  she,  con- 
sidered it  needful,  the  girl's  eyes  flashed.  She 
stooped  and  dragged  violently  from  beneath  the  bed 
a  flat  steamer  trunk,  the  lid  of  which  she  threw  open. 
A  dress  lay  on  the  bed.  With  a  fine  dramatic 
gesture  she  folded  the  garment  and  laid  it  in  the 
bottom  of  the  trunk.  Then  she  knelt,  and  without 
vouchsafing  another  glance  at  her  brother  standing 
rigid  by  the  door,  she  began  feverishly  to  arrange 
the  folds. 

The  choice  was  made.    He  turned  and  went  out. 


307 


CHAPTER   THIRTY-FOUR 

WITH  Thorpe  there  could  be  no  half-way 
measure.  He  saw  that  the  rupture  with  his 
sister  was  final,  and  the  thrust  attained  him  in  one 
of  his  unprotected  points.  It  was  not  as  though  he 
felt  either  himself  or  his  sister  consciously  in  the 
wrong.  He  acquitted  her  of  all  fault,  except  as  to 
the  deadly  one  of  misreading  and  misunderstanding. 
The  fact  argued  not  a  perversion  but  a  lack  in  her 
character.    She  was  other  than  he  had  thought  her. 

As  for  himself,  he  had  schemed,  worked,  lived 
only  for  her.  He  had  come  to  her  from  the  battle 
expecting  rest  and  refreshment.  To  the  world  he 
had  shown  the  hard,  unyielding  front  of  the  un- 
emotional; he  had  looked  ever  keenly  outward;  he 
had  braced  his  muscles  in  the  constant  tension  of 
endeavor.  So  much  the  more  reason  why,  in  the 
hearts  of  the  few  he  loved,  he,  the  man  of  action, 
should  find  repose;  the  man  of  sternness  should  dis- 
cover that  absolute  peace  of  the  spirit  in  which  not 
the  slightest  motion  of  the  will  is  necessary;  the 
man  of  repression  should  be  permitted  affectionate, 
care-free  expansion  of  the  natural  affection,  of  the 
full  sympathy  which  will  understand  and  not  mis- 

308 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

take  for  weakness.  Instead  of  this,  he  was  forced 
into  refusing  where  he  would  rather  have  given;  into 
denying  where  he  would  rather  have  assented;  and 
finally  into  commanding  where  he  longed  most 
ardently  to  lay  aside  the  cloak  of  authority.  His 
motives  were  misread;  his  intentions  misjudged;  his 
love  doubted. 

But  worst  of  all,  Thorpe's  mind  could  see  no  pos- 
sibility of  an  explanation.  If  she  could  not  see  of 
her  own  accord  how  much  he  loved  her,  surely  it 
was  a  hopeless  task  to  attempt  an  explanation 
through  mere  words.  If,  after  all,  she  was  capable 
of  misconceiving  the  entire  set  of  his  motives  during 
the  past  two  years,  expostulation  would  be  futile. 
In  his  thoughts  of  her  he  fell  into  a  great  spiritual 
dumbness.  Never,  even  in  his  moments  of  most 
theoretical  imaginings,  did  he  see  himself  setting 
before  her  fully  and  calmly  the  hopes  and  am- 
bitions of  which  she  had  been  the  mainspring. 
And  before  a  reconciliation,  many  such  rehearsals 
must  take  place  in  the  secret  recesses  of  a  man's 
being. 

Thorpe  did  not  cry  out,  nor  confide  in  a  friend, 
nor  do  anything  even  so  mild  as  pacing  the  floor. 
The  only  outward  and  visible  sign  a  close  observer 
might  have  noted  was  a  certain  dumb  pain  lurking 
in  the  depths  of  his  eyes  like  those  of  a  wounded 
spaniel.  He  was  hurt,  but  did  not  understand.  He 
suffered  in  silence,  but  without  anger.     This  is  at 

309 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

once  the  noblest  and  the  most  pathetic  of  human 
suffering. 

At  first  the  spring  of  his  life  seemed  broken.  He 
did  not  care  for  money;  and  at  present  disappoint- 
ment had  numbed  his  interest  in  the  game.  It 
seemed  hardly  worth  the  candle. 

Then  in  a  few  days,  after  his  thoughts  had  ceased 
to  dwell  constantly  on  the  one  subject,  he  began  to 
look  about  him  mentally.  Beneath  his  other  inter- 
ests he  still  felt  constantly  a  dull  ache,  something 
unpleasant,  uncomfortable.  Strangely  enough  it 
was  almost  identical  in  quality  with  the  uneasiness 
that  always  underlay  his  surface-thoughts  when  he 
was  worried  about  some  detail  of  his  business.  Un- 
consciously— again  as  in  his  business — the  com- 
bative instinct  aroused.  In  lack  of  other  object  on 
which  to  expend  itself,  Thorpe's  fighting  spirit 
turned  with  energy  to  the  subject  of  the  lawsuit. 

Under  the  unwonted  stress  of  the  psychological 
condition  just  described,  he  thought  at  white  heat. 
His  ideas  were  clear,  and  followed  each  other 
quickly,  almost  feverishly. 

After  his  sister  left  the  Renwicks,  Thorpe  himself 
went  to  Detroit,  where  he  interviewed  at  once  Nor- 
throp, the  brilliant  young  lawyer  whom  the  firm  had 
engaged  to  defend  its  case. 

"  I'm  afraid  we  have  no  show,"  he  replied  to 
Thorpe's  question.  "  You  see,  you  fellows  were  on 
the  wrong  side  of  the  fence  in  trying  to  enforce  the 

310 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

law  yourselves.  Of  course  you  may  well  say  that 
justice  was  all  on  your  side.  That  does  not  count. 
The  only  recourse  recognized  for  injustice  lies  in  the 
law  courts.  I'm  afraid  you  are  due  to  lose  your 
case." 

"  Well,"  said  Thorpe,  "  they  can't  prove  much 
damage." 

"  I  don't  expect  that  they  will  be  able  to  procure 
a  very  heavy  judgment,"  replied  Northrop.  "  The 
facts  I  shall  be  able  to  adduce  will  cut  down  dam- 
ages.   But  the  costs  will  be  very  heavy." 

'"  Yes,"  agreed  Thorpe. 

"  And,"  then  pursued  Northrop  with  a  dry  smile, 
"  they  practically  own  Sherman.  You  may  be  in 
for  contempt  of  court — at  their  instigation.  As  I 
understand  it,  they  are  trying  rather  to  injure  you 
than  to  get  anything  out  of  it  themselves." 

"  That's  it,"  nodded  Thorpe. 

"  In  other  words,  it's  a  case  for  compromise." 

"  Just  what  I  wanted  to  get  at,"  said  Thorpe  with 
satisfaction.  "  Now  answer  me  a  question.  Sup- 
pose a  man  injures  Government  or  State  land  by 
trespass.  The  land  is  afterward  bought  by  another 
party.  Has  the  latter  any  claim  for  damage  against 
the  trespasser1?  Understand  me,  the  purchaser 
bought  after  the  trespass  was  committed." 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Northrop  without  hesita- 
tion. "  Provided  suit  is  brought  within  six  years  of 
the  time  the  trespass  was  committed." 

3ii 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  Good !  Now  see  here.  These  M.  &  D.  people 
stole  about  a  section  of  Government  pine  up  on  that 
river,  and  I  don't  believe  they've  ever  bought  in  the 
land  it  stood  on.  In  fact  I  don't  believe  they  suspect 
that  any  one  knows  they've  been  stealing.  How 
would  it  do,  if  I  were  to  buy  that  section  at  the 
Land  Office,  and  threaten  to  sue  them  for  the  value 
of  the  pine  that  originally  stood  on  it*?  " 

The  lawyer's  eyes  glimmered  behind  the  lenses  of 
his  pince-nez;  but,  with  the  caution  of  the  profes- 
sional man  he  made  no  other  sign  of  satisfaction. 

"  It  would  do  very  well  indeed,"  he  replied,  "  but 
you'd  have  to  prove  they  did  the  cutting,  and  you'll 
have  to  pay  experts  to  estimate  the  probable  amount 
of  the  timber.  Have  you  the  description  of  the 
section"?  " 

"  No,"  responded  Thorpe,  "  but  I  can  get  it;  and 
I  can  pick  up  witnesses  from  the  woodsmen  as  to  the 
cutting." 

"  The  more  the  better.  It  is  rather  easy  to  dis- 
credit the  testimony  of  one  or  two.  How  much,  on 
a  broad  guess,  would  you  estimate  the  timber  to 
come  to?  " 

"  There  ought  to  be  about  eight  or  ten  million," 
guessed  Thorpe  after  an  instant's  silence,  "  worth  in 
the  stump  anywhere  from  sixteen  to  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars.  It  would  cost  me  only  eight  hundred 
to  buy  it." 

"  Do  so,  by  all  means.  Get  your  documents  and 
312 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

evidence  all  in  shape,  and  let  me  have  them.  I'll  see 
that  the  suit  is  discontinued  then.  Will  you  sue 
them?" 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  replied  Thorpe.  "  I'll  just 
hold  it  back  as  a  sort  of  club  to  keep  them  in  line." 

The  next  day,  he  took  the  train  north.  He  had 
something  definite  and  urgent  to  do,  and,  as  always 
with  practical  affairs  demanding  attention  and  re- 
source, he  threw  himself  whole-souled  into  the  ac- 
complishment of  it.  By  the  time  he  had  bought  the 
sixteen  forties  constituting  the  section,  searched  out 
a  dozen  witnesses  to  the  theft,  and  spent  a  week 
with  the  Marquette  expert  in  looking  over  the 
ground,  he  had  fallen  into  the  swing  of  work  again. 
His  experience  still  ached;  but  dully. 

Only  now  he  possessed  no  interests  outside  of 
those  in  the  new  country;  no  affections  save  the  half- 
protecting,  good-natured  comradeship  with  Wallace, 
the  mutual  self-reliant  respect  that  subsisted  between 
Tim  Shearer  and  himself,  and  the  dumb,  unreason- 
ing dog-liking  he  shared  with  Injin  Charley.  His 
eye  became  clearer  and  steadier;  his  methods  more 
simple  and  direct.  The  taciturnity  of  his  mood  re- 
doubled in  thickness.  He  was  less  charitable  to 
failure  on  the  part  of  subordinates.  And  the  new 
firm  on  the  Ossawinamakee  prospered. 


3*3 


CHAPTER    THIRTY-FIVE 

FIVE  years  passed. 
In  that  time  Thorpe  had  succeeded  in  cut- 
ting a  hundred  million  feet  of  pine.  The  money 
received  for  this  had  all  been  turned  back  into  the 
Company's  funds.  From  a  single  camp  of  twenty- 
five  men,  with  ten  horses  and  a  short  haul  of  half  a 
mile,  the  concern  had  increased  to  six  large,  well- 
equipped  communities  of  eighty  to  a  hundred  men 
apiece,  using  nearly  two  hundred  horses,  and  haul- 
ing as  far  as  eight  or  nine  miles. 

Near  the  port  stood  a  mammoth  sawmill  capable 
of  taking  care  of  twenty-two  million  feet  a  year, 
about  which  a  lumber  town  had  sprung  up.  Lake 
schooners  lay  in  a  long  row  during  the  summer 
months,  while  busy  loaders  passed  the  planks  from 
one  to  the  other  into  the  deep  holds.  Besides  its 
original  holding,  the  company  had  acquired  about  a 
hundred  and  fifty  million  more,  back  near  the  head- 
waters of  tributaries  to  the  Ossawinamakee.  In  the 
spring  and  early  summer  months,  the  drive  was  a 
wonderful  affair. 

During  the  four  years  in  which  the  Morrison  & 
Daly  Company  shared  the  stream  with  Thorpe,  the 

314 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

two  firms  lived  in  complete  amity  and  understand- 
ing. Northrop  had  played  his  cards  skillfully.  The 
older  capitalists  had  withdrawn  suit.  Afterward 
they  kept  scrupulously  within  their  rights,  and  saw 
to  it  that  no  more  careless  openings  were  left  for 
Thorpe's  shrewdness.  They  were  keen  enough  busi- 
ness men,  but  had  made  the  mistake,  common  enough 
to  established  power,  of  underrating  the  strength  of 
an  apparently  insignificant  opponent.  Once  they 
understood  Thorpe's  capacity,  that  young  man  had 
no  more  chance  to  catch  them  napping. 

And  as  the  younger  man,  on  his  side,  never  at- 
tempted to  overstep  his  own  rights,  the  interests  of 
the  rival  firms  rarely  clashed.  As  to  the  few  dis- 
putes that  did  arise,  Thorpe  found  Mr.  Daly  singu- 
larly anxious  to  please.  In  the  desire  was  no  friend- 
liness, however.  Thorpe  was  watchful  for  treachery, 
and  could  hardly  believe  the  affair  finished  when 
at  the  end  of  the  fourth  year  the  M.  &  D.  sold  out 
the  remainder  of  its  pine  to  a  firm  from  Manistee, 
and  transferred  its  operations  to  another  stream  a 
few  miles  east,  where  it  had  acquired  more  consider- 
able holdings. 

"  They're  altogether  too  confounded  anxious  to 
help  us  on  that  freight,  Wallace,"  said  Thorpe 
wrinkling  his  brow  uneasily.  "  I  don't  like  it.  It 
isn't  natural." 

"  No,"  laughed  Wallace,  "  neither  is  it  natural 
for  a  dog  to  draw  a  sledge.     But  he  does  it — when 

3i5 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

he  has  to.     They're  afraid  of  you,  Harry:  that's 
all." 

Thorpe  shook  his  head,  but  had  to  acknowledge 
that  he  could  evidence  no  grounds  for  his  mistrust. 

The  conversation  took  place  at  Camp  One,  which 
was  celebrated  in  three  states.  Thorpe  had  set  out 
to  gather  around  him  a  band  of  good  woodsmen. 
Except  on  a  pinch  he  would  employ  no  others. 

"  I  don't  care  if  I  get  in  only  two  thousand  feet 
this  winter,  and  if  a  boy  does  that,"  he  answered 
Shearer's  expostulations,  "  it's  got  to  be  a  good  boy." 

The  result  of  his  policy  began  to  show  even  in  the 
second  year.  Men  were  a  little  proud  to  say  that 
they  had  put  in  a  winter  at  "  Thorpe's  One."  Those 
who  had  worked  there  during  the  first  year  were 
loyally  enthusiastic  over  their  boss's  grit  and  re- 
sourcefulness, their  camp's  order,  their  cook's  good 
"  grub."  As  they  were  authorities,  others  perforce 
had  to  accept  the  dictum.  There  grew  a  desire 
among  the  better  class  to  see  what  Thorpe's  "  One  " 
might  be  like.  In  the  autumn  Harry  had  more  ap- 
plicants than  he  knew  what  to  do  with.  Eighteen 
of  the  old  men  returned.  He  took  them  all,  but 
ivhen  it  came  to  distribution,  three  found  themselves 
assigned  to  one  or  the  other  of  the  new  camps.  And 
rjuietly  the  rumor  gained  that  these  three  had  shown 
the  least  willing  spirit  during  the  previous  winter. 
The  other  fifteen  were  sobered  to  the  industry  which 
their  importance  as  veterans  might  have  impaired. 

316 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

Tim  Shearer  was  foreman  of  Camp  One;  Scotty 
Parsons  was  drafted  from  the  veterans  to  take 
charge  of  Two;  Thorpe  engaged  two  men  known  to 
Tim  to  boss  Three  and  Four.  But  in  selecting  the 
r'  push  "  for  Five  he  displayed  most  strikingly  his 
keen  appreciation  of  a  man's  relation  to  his  environ- 
ment. He  sought  out  John  Radway  and  induced 
him  to  accept  the  commission. 

"  You  can  do  it,  John,"  said  he,  "  and  I  know  it. 
I  want  you  to  try;  and  if  you  don't  make  her  go, 
I'll  call  it  nobody's  fault  but  my  own." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  dare  risk  it,  after  that  Cass 
Branch  deal,  Mr.  Thorpe,"  replied  Radway,  almost 
brokenly.  "  But  I  would  like  to  tackle  it,  I'm  dead 
sick  of  loafing.  Sometimes  it  seems  like  I'd  die,  if  I 
don't  get  out  in  the  woods  again." 

"  We'll  call  it  a  deal,  then,"  answered  Thorpe. 

The  result  proved  his  sagacity.  Radway  was  one 
of  the  best  foremen  in  the  outfit.  He  got  more  out 
of  his  men,  he  rose  better  to  emergencies,  and  he  ac- 
complished more  with  the  same  resources  than  any 
of  the  others,  excepting  Tim  Shearer.  As  long  as 
the  work  was  done  for  some  one  else,  he  was  capable 
and  efficient.  Only  when  he  was  called  upon  to 
demand  on  his  own  account  did  the  paralyzing  shy- 
ness affect  him. 

But  the  one  feature  that  did  more  to  attract  the 
very  best  element  among  woodsmen,  and  so  make 
possible  the  practice  of  Thorpe's  theory  of  success, 

3i7 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

was  Camp  One.  The  men's  accommodations  at  the 
other  five  were  no  different  and  but  little  better 
than  those  in  a  thousand  other  typical  lumber  camps 
of  both  peninsulas.  They  slept  in  box-like  bunks 
filled  with  hay  or  straw  over  which  blankets  were 
spread;  they  sat  on  a  narrow  hard  bench  or  on  the 
floor;  they  read  by  the  dim  light  of  a  lamp  fastened 
against  the  big  cross  beam;  they  warmed  themselves 
at  a  huge  iron  stove  in  the  centre  of  the  room  around 
which  suspended  wires  and  poles  offered  space  for 
the  drying  of  socks;  they  washed  their  clothes  when 
the  mood  struck  them.  It  was  warm  and  compar- 
atively clean.  But  it  was  dark,  without  ornament, 
cheerless. 

The  lumber-jack  never  expects  anything  different. 
In  fact,  if  he  were  pampered  to  the  extent  of  ordi- 
nary comforts,  he  would  be  apt  at  once  to  conclude 
himself  indispensable;  whereupon  he  would  become 
worthless. 

Thorpe,  however,  spent  a  little  money — not  much 
— and  transformed  Camp  One.  Every  bunk  was 
provided  with  a  tick,  which  the  men  could  fill  with 
hay,  balsam,  or  hemlock,  as  suited  them.  Cheap  but 
attractive  curtains  on  wires  at  once  brightened  the 
room  and  shut  each  man's  "  bedroom  "  from  the 
main  hall.  The  deacon  seat  remained,  but  was  sup- 
plemented by  a  half-dozen  simple  and  comfortable 
chairs.  In  the  centre  of  the  room  stood  a  big  round 
table  over  which  glowed  two  hanging  lamps.     Th«i 

3i8 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

table  was  littered  with  papers  and  magazines.  Home 
life  was  still  further  suggested  by  a  canary  bird 
in  a  gilt  cage,  a  sleepy  cat,  and  two  pots  of  red 
geraniums.  Thorpe  had  further  imported  a  washer- 
woman who  dwelt  in  a  separate  little  cabin  under 
the  hill.  She  washed  the  men's  belongings  at 
twenty-five  cents  a  week,  which  amount  Thorpe  de». 
•ducted  from  each  man's  wages,  whether  he  had  the 
washing  done  or  not.  This  encouraged  cleanliness. 
Phil  scrubbed  out  every  day,  while  the  men  were  in 
the  woods. 

Such  was  Thorpe's  famous  Camp  One  in  the  days 
of  its  splendor.  Old  woodsmen  will  still  tell  you 
about  it,  with  a  longing  reminiscent  glimmer  in  the 
corners  of  their  eyes  as  they  recall  its  glories  and 
the  men  who  worked  in  it.  To  have  "  put  in  "  a 
winter  in  Camp  One  was  the  mark  of  a  master;  and 
the  ambition  of  every  raw  recruit  to  the  forest. 
Probably  Thorpe's  name  is  remembered  to-day  more 
on  account  of  the  intrepid,  skillful,  loyal  men  his 
strange  genius  gathered  about  it,  than  for  the  her- 
culean feat  of  having  carved  a  great  fortune  from 
the  wilderness  in  but  five  years'  time. 

But  Camp  One  was  a  privilege.  A  man  entered 
it  only  after  having  proved  himself;  he  remained  in 
it  only  as  long  as  his  efficiency  deserved  the  honor. 
Its  members  were  invariably  recruited  from  one  of 
the  other  four  camps;  never  from  applicants  who 
had  not  been  in  Thorpe's  employ.    A  raw  man  was 

3i9 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

sent  to  Scotty,  or  Jack  Hyland,  or  Radway,  or  Ker- 
lie.  There  he  was  given  a  job,  if  he  happened  to 
suit,  and  men  were  needed.  By  and  by,  perhaps, 
when  a  member  of  Camp  One  fell  sick  or  was 
given  his  time,  Tim  Shearer  would  send  word  to 
one  of  the  other  five  that  he  needed  an  axe-man 
or  a  sawyer,  or  a  loader,  or  teamster,  as  the  case 
might  be.  The  best  man  in  the  other  camps  was 
sent  up. 

So  Shearer  was  foreman  of  a  picked  crew.  Prob- 
ably no  finer  body  of  men  was  ever  gathered  at  one 
camp.  In  them  one  could  study  at  his  best  the 
American  pioneer.  It  was  said  at  that  time  that 
you  had  never  seen  logging  done  as  it  should  be  until 
you  had  visited  Thorpe's  Camp  One  on  the  Ossa- 
winamakee. 

Of  these  men  Thorpe  demanded  one  thing — suc- 
cess. He  tried  never  to  ask  of  them  anything  he  did 
not  believe  to  be  thoroughly  possible;  but  he  ex- 
pected always  that  in  some  manner,  by  hook  or 
crook,  they  would  carry  the  affair  through.  No 
matter  how  good  the  excuse,  it  was  never  accepted. 
Accidents  would  happen,  there  as  elsewhere;  a  way 
to  arrive  in  spite  of  them  always  exists,  if  only  a 
man  is  willing  to  use  his  wits,  unflagging  energy, 
and  time.  Bad  luck  is  a  reality;  but  much  of  what 
is  called  bad  luck  is  nothing  but  a  want  of  careful 
foresight,  and  Thorpe  could  better  afford  to  be  harsh 
occasionally  to  the  genuine  for  the  sake  of  elim- 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

inating  the  false.  If  a  man  failed,  he  left  Camp 
One. 

The  procedure  was  very  simple.  Thorpe  never 
explained  his  reasons  even  to  Shearer. 

"  Ask  Tom  to  step  in  a  moment,"  he  requested  of 
the  latter. 

"  Tom,"  he  said  to  that  individual,  "  I  think  I 
can  use  you  better  at  Four.    Report  to  Kerlie  there." 

And  strangely  enough,  few  even  of  these  proud 
and  independent  men  ever  asked  for  their  time,  or 
preferred  to  quit  rather  than  to  work  up  again  to  the 
glories  of  their  prize  camp. 

For  while  new  recruits  were  never  accepted  at 
Camp  One,  neither  was  a  man  ever  discharged  there. 
He  was  merely  transferred  to  one  of  the  other  fore 
men. 

It  is  necessary  to  be  thus  minute  in  order  that  the 
reader  may  understand  exactly  the  class  of  men 
Thorpe  had  about  his  immediate  person.  Some  of 
them  had  the  reputation  of  being  the  hardest  citizens 
in  three  States,  others  were  mild  as  turtle  doves. 
They  were  all  pioneers.  They  had  the  independ- 
ence, the  unabashed  eye,  the  insubordination  even, 
of  the  man  who  has  drawn  his  intellectual  and  moral 
nourishment  at  the  breast  of  a  wild  nature.  They 
were  afraid  of  nothing  alive.  From  no  one,  were 
he  chore-boy  or  president,  would  they  take  a  single 
word — with  the  exception  always  of  Tim  Shearer 
and  Thorpe.    The  former  they  respected  because  in 

321 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

their  picturesque  guild  he  was  a  master  craftsman. 
The  latter  they  adored  and  quoted  and  fought  for 
in  distant  saloons,  because  he  represented  to  them 
their  own  ideal,  what  they  would  be  if  freed  from 
the  heavy  gyves  of  vice  and  executive  incapacity 
that  weighed  them  down. 

And  they  were  loyal.  It  was  a  point  of  honor 
with  them  to  stay  "  until  the  last  dog  was  hung." 
He  who  deserted  in  the  hour  of  need  was  not  only  a 
renegade,  but  a  fool.  For  he  thus  earned  a  mag- 
nificent licking  if  ever  he  ran  up  against  a  member 
of  the  "  Fighting  Forty."  A  band  of  soldiers  they 
were,  ready  to  attempt  anything  their  commander 
ordered,  devoted,  enthusiastically  admiring.  And, 
it  must  be  confessed,  they  were  also  somewhat  on  the 
order  of  a  band  of  pirates.  Marquette  thought  so 
each  spring  after  the  drive,  when,  hat-tilted,  they 
surged  swearing  and  shouting  down  to  Denny 
Hogan's  saloon.  Denny  had  to  buy  new  fixtures 
when  they  went  away;  but  it  was  worth  it. 

Proud !  it  was  no  name  for  it.  Boast !  the  fame  of 
Camp  One  spread  abroad  over  the  land,  and  was 
believed  in  to  about  twenty  per  cent,  of  the  anec- 
dotes detailed  of  it — which  was  near  enough  the 
actual  truth.  Anecdotes  disbelieved,  the  class  of 
men  from  it  would  have  given  it  a  reputation.  The 
latter  was  varied  enough,  in  truth.  Some  people 
thought  Camp  One  must  be  a  sort  of  hell-hole  of 
roaring,  fighting  devils.     Others  sighed  and  made 

322 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

rapid  calculations  of  the  number  of  logs  they  could 
put  in,  if  only  they  could  get  hold  of  help  like  that. 

Thorpe  himself,  of  course,  made  his  headquarters 
at  Camp  One.  Thence  he  visited  at  least  once  a 
week  all  the  other  camps,  inspecting  the  minutest 
details,  not  only  of  the  work,  but  of  the  every-day 
life.  For  this  purpose  he  maintained  a  light  box 
sleigh  and  a  pair  of  bays,  though  often,  when  the 
snow  became  deep,  he  was  forced  to  snowshoes. 

During  the  five  years  he  had  never  crossed  the 
Straits  of  Mackinaw.  The  rupture  with  his  sister 
had  made  repugnant  to  him  all  the  southern  country. 
He  preferred  to  remain  in  the  woods.  Ail  winter 
long  he  was  more  than  busy  at  his  logging.  Sum- 
mers he  spent  at  the  mill.  Occasionally  he  visited 
Marquette,  but  always  on  business.  He  became  used 
to  seeing  only  the  rough  faces  of  men.  The  vision 
of  softer  graces  and  beauties  lost  its  distinctness 
before  this  strong,  hardy  northland,  whose  gentler 
moods  were  like  velvet  over  iron,  or  like  its  own 
summer  leaves  veiling  the  eternal  darkness  of  the 
pines. 

He  was  happy  because  he  was  too  busy  to  be  any- 
thing else.  The  insistent  need  of  success  which  he 
had  created  for  himself  absorbed  all  other  senti- 
ments. He  demanded  it  of  others  rigorously.  He 
could  do  no  less  than  demand  it  of  himself.  It  had 
practically  become  one  of  his  tenets  of  belief.  The 
chief  end  of  any  man,  as  he  saw  it,  was  to  do  well 

323 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

and  successfully  what  his  life  found  ready.  Any- 
thing to  further  this  fore-ordained  activity  was 
good ;  anything  else  was  bad.  These  thoughts,  aided 
by  a  disposition  naturally  fervent  and  single  in  pur- 
pose, hereditarily  ascetic  and  conscientious — for  his 
mother  was  of  old  New  England  stock — gave  to 
him  in  the  course  of  six  years'  striving  a  sort  of  daily 
and  familiar  religion  to  which  he  conformed  his  life. 

Success,  success,  success.  Nothing  could  be  of 
more  importance.  Its  attainment  argued  a  man's 
efficiency  in  the  Scheme  of  Things,  his  worthy  ful- 
fillment of  the  end  for  which  a  divine  Providence 
had  placed  him  on  earth.  Anything  that  interfered 
with  it — personal  comfort,  inclination,  affection,  de- 
sire, love  of  ease,  individual  liking — was  bad. 

Luckily  for  Thorpe's  peace  of  mind,  his  habit  of 
looking  on  men  as  things  helped  him  keep  to  this 
attitude  of  mind.  His  lumbermen  were  tools — 
good,  sharp,  efficient  tools,  to  be  sure,  but  only  be- 
cause he  had  made  them  so.  Their  loyalty  aroused 
in  his  breast  no  pride  nor  gratitude.  He  expected 
loyalty.  He  would  have  discharged  at  once  a  man 
who  did  not  show  it.  The  same  with  zeal,  intelli- 
gence, effort — they  were  the  things  he  took  for 
granted.  As  for  the  admiration  and  affection  which 
the  Fighting  Forty  displayed  for  him  personally,  he 
gave  not  a  thought  to  it.  And  the  men  knew  it,  and 
loved  him  the  more  from  the  fact. 

Thorpe  cared  for  just  three  people,  and  none  of 
324 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

them  happened  to  clash  with  his  machine.  They 
were  Wallace  Carpenter,  little  Phil,  and  Injin 
Charley. 

Wallace,  for  reasons  already  explained  at  length, 
was  always  personally  agreeable  to  Thorpe.  Lat- 
terly, since  the  erection  of  the  mill,  he  had  developed 
unexpected  acumen  in  the  disposal  of  the  season's 
cut  to  wholesale  dealers  in  Chicago.  Nothing  could 
have  been  better  for  the  firm.  Thereafter  he  was 
often  in  the  woods,  both  for  pleasure  and  to  get  his 
partner's  ideas  on  what  the  firm  would  have  to  offer. 
The  entire  responsibility  of  the  city  end  of  the  busi* 
ness  was  in  his  hands. 

Injin  Charley  continued  to  hunt  and  trap  in  the 
country  round  about.  Between  him  and  Thorpe 
had  grown  a  friendship  the  more  solid  in  that  its 
increase  had  been  mysteriously  without  outward 
cause.  Once  or  twice  a  month  the  lumberman 
would  snowshoe  down  to  the  little  cabin  at  the 
forks.  Entering,  he  would  nod  briefly  and  seat 
himself  on  a  cracker-box.     **&■<& 

"  How  do,  Charley,"  said  he. 

"  How  do,"  replied  Charley. 

They  filled  pipes  and  smoked.  At  rare  intervals 
one  of  them  made  a  remark,  tersely. 

"  Catch  um  three  beaver  las'  week,"  remarked 
Charley. 

"  Good  haul,"  commented  Thorpe. 

Or: 

325 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  I  saw  a  mink  track  by  the  big  boulder,"  offered 
Thorpe. 

"  H'm!  "  responded  Charley  in  a  long-drawn  fal- 
setto whine. 

Yet  somehow  the  men  came  to  know  each  other 
better  and  better;  and  each  felt  that  in  an  emergency 
he  could  depend  on  the  other  to  the  uttermost  in 
spite  of  the  difference  in  race. 

As  for  Phil,  he  was  like  some  strange,  shy  animal, 
retaining  all  its  wild  instincts,  but  led  by  affection 
to  become  domestic.  He  drew  the  water,  cut  the 
wood — none  better.  In  the  evening  he  played  atro- 
ciously his  violin — none  worse — bending  his  great 
white  brow  forward  with  the  wolf-glare  in  his  eyes, 
swaying  his  shoulders  with  a  fierce  delight  in  the 
subtle  dissonances,  the  swaggering  exactitude  of 
time,  the  vulgar  rendition  of  the  horrible  tunes  he 
played.  And  often  he  went  into  the  forest  and 
gazed  wondering  through  his  liquid  poet's  eyes  at 
occult  things.  Above  all,  he  worshipped  Thorpe. 
And  in  turn  the  lumberman  accorded  him  a  good- 
natured  affection.  He  was  as  indispensable  to  Camp 
One  as  the  beagles. 

And  the  beagles  were  most  indispensable.  No 
one  could  have  got  along  without  them.  In  the 
course  of  events  and  natural  selection  they  had  in- 
creased to  eleven.  At  night  they  slept  in  the  men'? 
camp  underneath  or  very  near  the  stove.  By  day- 
light in  the  morning  they  were  clamoring  at  tht* 

326 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

door.  Never  had  they  caught  a  hare.  Never  for  a 
moment  did  their  hopes  sink.  The  men  used  some- 
times to  amuse  themselves  by  refusing  the  requested 
exit.  The  little  dogs  agonized.  They  leaped  and 
yelped,  falling  over  each  other  like  a  tangle  of  angle- 
worms. Then  finally,  when  the  door  at  last  flung 
wide,  they  precipitated  themselves  eagerly  and  si- 
lently through  the  opening.  A  few  moments  later 
a  single  yelp  rose  in  the  direction  of  the  swamp;  the 
band  took  up  the  cry.  From  then  until  dark  the 
glade  was  musical  with  baying.  At  supper  time 
they  returned  straggling,  their  expression  pleased, 
six  inches  of  red  tongue  hanging  from  the  corners 
of  their  mouths,  ravenously  ready  for  supper. 

Strangely  enough  the  big  white  hares  never  left 
the  swamp.  Perhaps  the  same  one  was  never  chased 
two  days  in  succession.  Or  it  is  possible  that  the 
quarry  enjoyed  the  harmless  game  as  much  as  did 
the  little  dogs. 

Once  only  while  the  snow  lasted  was  the  hunt 
abandoned  for  a  few  days.  Wallace  Carpenter  an- 
nounced his  intention  of  joining  forces  with  the 
diminutive  hounds. 

"  It's  a  shame,  so  it  is,  doggies !  "  he  laughed  at 
the  tried  pack.     "  We'll  get  one  to-morrow." 

So  he  took  his  shotgun  to  the  swamp,  and  after  a 
half-hour's  wait,  succeeded  in  killing  the  hare.  From 
that  moment  he  was  the  hero  of  those  ecstasized 
canines.    They  tangled  about  him  everywhere.    He 

327 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

hardly  dared  take  a  step  for  fear  of  crushing  one  of 
the  open  faces  and  expectant,  pleading  eyes  looking 
up  at  him.  It  grew  to  be  a  nuisance.  Wallace  al- 
ways claimed  his  trip  was  considerably  shortened 
because  he  could  not  get  away  from  his  admirers. 


CHAPTER   THIRTY-SIX 

FINANCIALLY  the  Company  was  rated  high, 
and  yet  was  heavily  in  debt.  This  condition 
of  affairs  by  no  means  constitutes  an  anomaly  in  the 
lumbering  business. 

The  profits  of  the  first  five  years  had  been  im- 
mediately reinvested  in  the  business.  Thorpe,  with 
the  foresight  that  had  originally  led  him  into  this 
new  country,  saw  farther  than  the  instant's  gain. 
He  intended  to  establish  in  a  few  years  more  a  big 
plant  which  would  be  returning  benefices  in  propor- 
tion not  only  to  the  capital  originally  invested,  but 
also  in  ratio  to  the  energy,  time,  and  genius  he  had 
himself  expended.  It  was  not  the  affair  of  a  mo- 
ment. It  was  not  the  affair  of  half-measures,  of 
timidity. 

Thorpe  knew  that  he  could  play  safely,  cutting  a 
few  millions  a  year,  expanding  cautiously.  By  this 
method  he  would  arrive,  but  only  after  a  long 
period. 

Or  he  could  do  as  many  other  firms  have  done; 
start  on  borrowed  money. 

In  the  latter  case  he  had  only  one  thing  to  fear, 
and  that  was  fire.    Every  cent,  and  many  times  over, 

329 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

of  his  obligations  would  be  represented  in  the  state 
of  raw  material.  All  he  had  to  do  was  to  cut  it  out 
by  the  very  means  which  the  yearly  profits  of  his 
business  would  enable  him  to  purchase.  For  the 
moment,  he  owed  a  great  deal;  without  the  shadow 
of  a  doubt  mere  industry  would  clear  his  debt,  and 
leave  him  with  substantial  acquisitions  created, 
practically,  from  nothing  but  his  own  abilities.  The 
money  obtained  from  his  mortgages  was  a  tool  which 
he  picked  up  an  instant,  used  to  fashion  one  of  his 
own,  and  laid  aside. 

Every  autumn  the  Company  found  itself  sud- 
denly in  easy  circumstances.  At  any  moment  that 
Thorpe  had  chosen  to  be  content  with  the  progress 
made,  he  could  have,  so  to  speak,  declared  dividends 
I  with  his  partner.  Instead  of  undertaking  more  im- 
provements, for  part  of  which  he  borrowed  some 
money,  he  could  have  divided  the  profits  of  the 
season's  cut.    But  this  he  was  not  yet  ready  to  do. 

He  had  established  five  more  camps,  he  had  ac- 
quired over  a  hundred  and  fifty  million  more  of 
timber  lying  contiguous  to  his  own,  he  had  built  and 
equipped  a  modern  high-efficiency  mill,  he  had  con- 
structed a  harbor  breakwater  and  the  necessary 
booms,  he  had  bought  a  tug,  built  a  boarding-house. 
All  this  costs  money.  He  wished  now  to  construct 
a  logging  railroad.  Then  he  promised  himself  and 
Wallace  that  they  would  be  ready  to  commence 
paying  operations. 

330 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

The  logging  railroad  was  just  then  beginning  to 
gain  recognition.  A  few  miles  of  track,  a  loco- 
motive, and  a  number  of  cars  consisting  uniquely  of 
wheels  and  "  bunks,"  or  cross  beams  on  which  to 
chain  the  logs,  and  a  fairly  well-graded  right-of- 
way  comprised  the  outfit.  Its  use  obviated  the 
necessity  of  driving  the  river — always  an  expensive 
operation.  Often,  too,  the  decking  at  the  skidways 
could  be  dispensed  with ;  and  the  sleigh  hauls,  if  not 
entirely  superseded  for  the  remote  districts,  were  en- 
tirely so  in  the  country  for  a  half  mile  on  either  side 
of  the  track,  and  in  any  case  were  greatly  shortened. 
There  obtained,  too,  the  additional  advantage  of  be- 
ing able  to  cut  summer  and  winter  alike.  Thus,  the 
plant  once  established,  logging  by  railroad  was  not 
only  easier  but  cheaper,  Of  late  years  it  has  come 
into  almost  universal  use  in  big  jobs  and  wherever 
the  nature  of  the  country  will  permit.  The  old- 
fashioned,  picturesque  ice-road  sleigh-haul  will  last 
as  long  as  north-woods  lumbering — even  in  the  rail- 
road districts  —  but  the  locomotive  now  does  the 
heavy  work. 

With  the  capital  to  be  obtained  from  the  follow- 
ing winter's  product,  Thorpe  hoped  to  be  able  to 
establish  a  branch  which  should  run  from  a  point 
some  two  miles  behind  Camp  One  to  a  "  dump  "  a 
short  distance  above  the  mill.  For  this  he  had  made 
all  the  estimates,  and  even  the  preliminary  survey. 
He  was  therefore  the  more  grievously  disappointed 

33i 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

when  Wallace  Carpenter  made  it  impossible  for  him 
to  do  so. 

He  was  sitting  in  the  mill-office  one  day  about  the 
middle  of  July.  Herrick,  the  engineer,  had  just 
been  in.  He  could  not  keep  the  engine  in  order, 
although  Thorpe  knew  that  it  could  be  done. 

"  I've  sot  up  nights  with  her,"  said  Herrick,  "  and 
she's  no  go.  I  think  I  can  fix  her  when  my  head 
gets  all  right.  I  got  headachy  lately.  And  some- 
how that  last  lot  of  Babbit  metal  didn't  seem  to  act 
just  right." 

Thorpe  looked  out  of  the  window,  tapping  his 
desk  slowly  with  the  end  of  a  lead  pencil. 

"  Collins,"  said  he  to  the  bookkeeper,  without 
raising  his  voice  or  altering  his  position,  "  make  out 
Herrick's  time." 

The  man  stood  there  astonished. 

"  But  I  had  hard  luck,  sir,"  he  expostulated. 
"  She'll  go  all  right  now,  I  think." 

Thorpe  turned  and  looked  at  him. 

"  Herrick,"  he  said,  not  unkindly,  "  this  is  the 
second  time  this  summer  the  mill  has  had  to  close 
early  on  account  of  that  engine.  We  have  supplied 
you  with  everything  you  asked  for.  If  you  can't 
do  it,  we  shall  have  to  get  a  man  who  can." 

"  But  I  had — "  began  the  man  once  more. 

"  I  ask  every  man  to  succeed  in  what  I  give  him 
to  do,"  interrupted  Thorpe.  "  If  he  has  a  headache, 
he  must  brace  up  or  quit.    If  his  Babbit  doesn't  act 

332 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

just  right  he  must  doctor  it  up;  or  get  some  more, 
even  if  he  has  to  steal  it.  If  he  has  hard  luck,  he 
must  sit  up  nights  to  better  it.  It's  none  of  my  con- 
cern how  hard  or  how  easy  a  time  a  man  has  in 
doing  what  I  tell  him  to.  I  expect  him  to  do  it.  If 
I  have  to  do  all  a  man's  thinking  for  him,  I  may  as 
well  hire  Swedes  and  be  done  with  it.  I  have  too 
many  details  to  attend  to  already  without  bothering 
about  excuses." 

The  man  stood  puzzling  over  this  logic. 

"  I  ain't  got  any  other  job,"  he  ventured. 

"  You  can  go  to  piling  on  the  docks,"  replied 
Thorpe,  "  if  you  want  to." 

Thorpe  was  thus  explicit  because  he  rather  liked 
Herrick.  It  was  hard  for  him  to  discharge  the  man 
peremptorily,  and  he  proved  the  need  of  justifying 
himself  in  his  own  eyes. 

Now  he  sat  back  idly  in  the  clean  painted  little 
room  with  the  big  square  desk  and  the  three  chairs. 
Through  the  door  he  could  see  Collins,  perched  on  a 
high  stool  before  the  shelf-like  desk.  From  the  open 
window  came  the  clear,  musical  note  of  the  circular 
saw,  the  fresh  aromatic  smell  of  new  lumber,  the 
bracing  air  from  Superior  sparkling  in  the  offing. 
He  felt  tired.  In  rare  moments  such  as  these,  when 
the  muscles  of  his  striving  relaxed,  his  mind  turned 
to  the  past.  Old  sorrows  rose  before  him  and  looked 
at  him  with  their  sad  eyes;  the  sorrows  that  had 
helped  to  make  him  what  he  was.     He  wondered 

333 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

where  his  sister  was.  She  would  be  twenty-two 
years  old  now.  A  tenderness,  haunting,  tearful,  in- 
vaded his  heart.  He  suffered.  At  such  moments 
the  hard  shell  of  his  rough  woods  life  seemed  to 
rend  apart.  He  longed  with  a  great  longing  for 
sympathy,  for  love,  lor  the  softer  influences  that 
cradle  even  warriors  between  the  clangors  of  the 
battles. 

The  outer  door,  beyond  the  cage  behind  which 
Collins  and  his  shelf  desk  were  placed,  flew  open. 
Thorpe  heard  a  brief  greeting,  and  Wallace  Car- 
penter stood  before  him. 

"  Why,  Wallace,  I  didn't  know  you  were  com- 
ing! "  began  Thorpe,  and  stopped.  The  boy,  usu- 
ally so  fresh  and  happily  buoyant,  looked  ten  years 
older.  Wrinkles  had  gathered  between  his  eyes. 
"  Why,  what's  the  matter?  "  cried  Thorpe. 

He  rose  swiftly  and  shut  the  door  into  the  outer 
office.     Wallace  seated  himself  mechanically. 

"  Everything !  everything !  "  he  said  in  despair. 
"  I've  been  a  fool !  I've  been  blind !  " 

So  bitter  was  his  tone  that  Thorpe  was  startled. 
The  lumberman  sat  down  on  the  other  side  of  the 
desk. 

"  That'll  do,  Wallace,"  he  said  sharply.  "  Tell 
me  briefly  what  is  the  matter." 

"  I've  been  speculating!  "  burst  out  the  boy. 

"  Ah !  "  said  his  partner. 

'•'  At  first  I  bought  only  dividend-paying  stocks 
334 


THE  BLAZING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

outright.  Then  I  bought  for  a  rise,  but  still  out- 
right. Then  I  got  in  with  a  fellow  who  claimed  to 
know  all  about  it.  I  bought  on  a  margin.  There 
came  a  slump.  I  met  the  margins  because  I  am  sure 
there  will  be  a  rally,  but  now  all  my  fortune  is  in 
the  thing.  I'm  going  to  be  penniless.  I'll  lose  it 
all." 

"Ah!"  said  Thorpe. 

"  And  the  name  of  Carpenter  is  so  old-estab- 
lished, so  honorable !  "  cried  the  unhappy  boy,  "  and 
my  sister !  " 

"  Easy !  "  warned  Thorpe.  "  Being  penniless  isn't 
the  worst  thing  that  can  happen  to  a  man. 

"  No;  but  I  am  in  debt,"  went  on  the  boy  more 
calmly.  "  I  have  given  notes.  When  they  come 
due,  I'm  a  goner." 

"  How  much?  "  asked  Thorpe  laconically. 

"  Thirty  thousand  dollars." 

"  Well,  you  have  that  amount  in  this  firm." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  If  you  want  it,  you  can  have  it." 

Wallace  considered  a  moment. 

"  That  would  leave  me  without  a  cent,"  he  re- 
plied. 

"  But  it  would  save  your  commercial  honor." 

"  Harry,"  cried  Wallace  suddenly,  "  couldn't  this 
firm  go  on  my  note  for  thirty  thousand  more?  Its 
credit  is  good,  and  that  amount  would  save  my 
margins." 

335 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  You  are  partner,"  replied  Thorpe,  "  your  signa* 
ture  is  as  good  as  mine  in  this  firm." 

"  But  you  know  I  wouldn't  do  it  without  your 
consent,"  replied  Wallace  reproachfully.  "  O 
Harry!"  cried  the  boy,  "when  you  needed  the 
amount,  I  let  you  have  it !  " 

Thorpe  smiled. 

"  You  know  you  can  have  it,  if  it's  to  be  had, 
Wallace.  I  wasn't  hesitating  on  that  account.  I 
was  merely  trying  to  figure  out  where  we  can  raise 
such  a  sum  as  sixty  thousand  dollars.  We  haven't 
got  it." 

"  But  you'll  never  have  to  pay  it,"  assured  Wal« 
lace  eagerly.  "  If  I  can  save  my  margins,  I'll  be  all 
right." 

"  A  man  has  to  figure  on  paying  whatever  he  puts 
his  signature  to,"  asserted  Thorpe.  "  I  can  give  you 
our  note  payable  at  the  end  of  a  year.  Then  I'll 
hustle  in  enough  timber  to  make  up  the  amount.  It 
means  we  don't  get  our  railroad,  that's  all." 

"  I  knew  you'd  help  me  out.  Now  it's  all  right," 
said  Wallace,  with  a  relieved  air. 

Thorpe  shook  his  head.  He  was  already  trying 
to  figure  how  to  increase  his  cut  to  thirty  million 
feet. 

"  I'll  do  it,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  after  Wal- 
lace had  gone  out  to  visit  the  mill.  "  I've  been  de- 
manding success  of  others  for  a  good  many  years; 
now  I'll  demand  it  of  myself." 

336 


PART  IV 

THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 


. 


CHAPTER    THIRTY-SEVEN 

THE  moment  had  struck  for  the  woman. 
Thorpe  did  not  know  it,  but  it  was  true.  A 
solitary,  brooding  life  in  the  midst  of  grand  sur- 
roundings, an  active,  strenuous  life  among  great  re- 
sponsibilities, a  starved,  hungry  life  of  the  affections 
whence  even  the  sister  had  withdrawn  her  love — all 
these  had  worked  unobtrusively  toward  the  forma- 
tion of  a  single  psychological  condition.  Such  a 
moment  comes  to  every  man.  In  it  he  realizes  the 
beauties,  the  powers,  the  vastnesses  which  uncon- 
sciously his  being  has  absorbed.  They  rise  to  the 
surface  as  a  need,  which,  being  satisfied,  is  projected 
into  the  visible  world  as  an  ideal  to  be  worshipped. 
Then  is  happinebS  and  misery,  beside  which  the  mere 
struggle  to  dominate  men  becomes  trivial,  the  petty 
striving  with  the  forces  of  nature  seems  a  little  thing. 
And  the  woman  he  at  that  time  meets  takes  on  the 
qualities  of  the  dream ;  she  is  more  than  woman,  less 
than  goddess;  she  is  the  best  of  that  man  made  visible. 
Thorpe  found  himself  for  the  first  time  filled  with 
the  spirit  of  restlessness.  His  customary  iron  even- 
ness of  temper  was  gone,  so  that  he  wandered  quickly 
from  one  detail  of  his  work  to  another,  without 
seeming  to  penetrate  below  the  surface  need  of  any 

339 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

one  task.  Out  of  the  present  his  mind  was  always 
escaping  to  a  mystic  fourth  dimension  which  he  did 
not  understand.  But  a  week  before,  he  had  felt 
himself  absorbed  in  the  component  parts  of  his  en- 
terprise, the  totality  of  which  arched  far  over  his 
head,  shutting  out  the  sky.  Now  he  was  outside  of 
it.  He  had,  without  his  volition,  abandoned  the 
creator's  standpoint  of  the  god  at  the  heart  of  his 
work.  It  seemed  as  important,  as  great  to  him,  but 
somehow  it  had  taken  on  a  strange  solidarity,  as 
though  he  had  left  it  a  plastic  beginning  and  re- 
turned to  find  it  hardened  into  the  shapes  of  finality. 
He  acknowledged  it  admirable — and  wondered  how 
he  had  ever  accomplished  it!  He  confessed  that  it 
should  be  finished  as  it  had  begun — and  could  not 
discover  in  himself  the  Titan  who  had  watched  over 
its  inception. 

Thorpe  took  this  state  of  mind  much  to  heart, 
and  in  combating  it  expended  more  energy  than 
would  have  sufficed  to  accomplish  the  work.  In- 
exorably he  held  himself  to  the  task.  He  filled  his 
mind  full  of  lumbering.  The  millions  along  the 
bank  on  section  nine  must  be  cut  and  travoyed  di- 
rectly on  the  railways.  It  was  a  shame  that  the 
necessity  should  arise.  From  section  nine  Thorpe 
had  hoped  to  lighten  the  expenses  when  finally  he 
should  begin  operations  on  the  distant  and  inac- 
cessible headwaters  of  French  Creek.  Now  there 
was  no  help  for  it.     The  instant  necessity  was  to 

340 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

get  thirty  millions  of  pine  logs  down  the  river  before 
Wallace  Carpenter's  notes  came  due.  Every  other 
consideration  had  to  yield  before  that.  Fifteen 
millions  more  could  be  cut  on  seventeen,  nineteen, 
and  eleven — regions  hitherto  practically  untouched 
— by  the  men  in  the  four  camps  inland.  Camp  One 
and  Camp  Three  could  attend  to  section  nine. 

These  were  details  to  which  Thorpe  applied  his 
mind.  As  he  pushed  through  the  sun-flecked  forest, 
laying  out  his  roads,  placing  his  travoy  trails,  spying 
the  difficulties  that  might  supervene  to  mar  the  fair 
face  of  honest  labor,  he  had  always  this  thought 
before  him — that  he  must  apply  his  mind.  By  an 
effort,  a  tremendous  effort,  he  succeeded  in  doing  so. 
The  effort  left  him  limp.  He  found  himself  often 
standing,  or  moving  gently,  his  eyes  staring  sight- 
less, his  mind  cradled  on  vague  misty  clouds  of  abso- 
lute inaction,  his  will  chained  so  softly  and  yet  so 
firmly  that  he  felt  no  strength  and  hardly  the  desire 
to  break  from  the  dream  that  lulled  him.  Then  he 
was  conscious  of  the  physical  warmth  of  the  sun, 
the  faint  sweet  woods  smells,  the  soothing  caress  of 
the  breeze,  the  sleepy  cicada-like  note  of  the  pine 
creeper.  Through  his  half-closed  lashes  the  tangled 
sunbeams  made  soft-tinted  rainbows.  He  wanted 
nothing  so  much  as  to  sit  on  the  pine  needles  there 
in  the  golden  flood  of  radiance,  and  dream — dream 
on — vaguely,  comfortably,  sweetly — dream  of  sum- 
mer  

34r 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Thorpe,  with  a  mighty  and  impatient  effort, 
snapped  the  silken  cords  asunder. 

"Lord,  Lord!"  he  cried  impatiently.  "What's 
coming  to  me1?    I  must  be  a  little  off  my  feed!  " 

And  he  hurried  rapidly  to  his  duties.  After  an 
hour  of  the  hardest  concentration  he  had  ever  been 
required  to  bestow  on  a  trivial  subject,  he  again  un- 
consciously sank  by  degrees  into  the  old  apathy. 

"Glad  it  isn't  the  busy  season!  "  he  commented 
to  himself.  "  Here,  I  must  quit  this !  Guess  it's  the 
warm  weather.  I'll  get  down  to  the  mill  for  a  day 
or  two." 

There  he  found  himself  incapable  of  even  the 
most  petty  routine  work.  He  sat  to  his  desk  at  eight 
o'clock  and  began  the  perusal  of  a  sheaf  of  letters, 
comprising  a  certain  correspondence,  which  Collins 
brought  him.  The  first  three  he  read  carefully;  the 
following  two  rather  hurriedly;  of  the  next  one  he 
seized  only  the  salient  and  essential  points;  the  sev- 
enth and  eighth  he  skimmed;  the  remainder  of  the 
bundle  he  thrust  aside  in  uncontrollable  impatience. 
Next  day  he  returned  to  the  woods. 

The  incident  of  the  letters  had  aroused  to  the  full 
his  old  fighting  spirit,  before  which  no  mere  instincts 
could  stand.  He  clamped  the  iron  to  his  actions  and 
forced  them  to  the  way  appointed.  Once  more  his 
mental  processes  became  clear  and  incisive,  his  com- 
mands direct  and  to  the  point.  To  all  outward  ap- 
pearance Thorpe  was  as  before. 

342 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

He  opened  Camp  One,  and  the  Fighting  Forty 
came  back  from  distant  drinking  joints.  This  was 
in  early  September,  when  the  raspberries  were  en- 
tirely done  and  the  blackberries  fairly  in  the  way  of 
vanishing.  That  able-bodied  and  devoted  band  of 
men  was  on  hand  when  needed.  Shearer,  in  some 
subtle  manner  of  his  own,  had  let  them  feel  that 
this  year  meant  thirty  million  or  "  bust."  They 
tightened  their  leather  belts  and  stood  ready  for 
commands.  Thorpe  set  them  to  work  near  the  river, 
cutting  roads  along  the  lines  he  had  blazed  to  the 
inland  timber  on  seventeen  and  nineteen.  After 
much  discussion  with  Shearer  the  young  man  decided 
to  take  out  the  logs  from  eleven  by  driving  them 
down  French  Creek. 

To  this  end  a  gang  was  put  to  clearing  the  creek- 
bed.  It  was  a  tremendous  job.  Centuries  of  forest 
life  had  choked  the  little  stream  nearly  to  the  level 
of  its  banks.  Old  snags  and  stumps  lay  imbedded 
in  the  ooze;  decayed  trunks,  moss-grown,  blocked 
the  current;  leaning  tamaracks,  fallen  timber,  tan- 
gled vines,  dense  thickets  gave  to  its  course  more 
the  appearance  of  a  tropical  jungle  than  of  a  north- 
country  brook-bed.  All  these  things  had  to  be  re- 
moved, one  by  one,  and  either  piled  to  one  side  or 
burnt.  In  the  end,  however,  it  would  pay.  French 
Creek  was  not  a  large  stream,  but  it  could  be  driven 
during  the  time  of  the  spring  freshets. 

Each  night  the  men  returned  in  the  beautiful 
343 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

dream-like  twilight  to  the  camp.  There  they  sat, 
after  eating,  smoking  their  pipes  in  the  open  air. 
Much  of  the  time  they  sang,  while  Phil,  crouching 
wolf-like  over  his  violin,  rasped  out  an  accompani- 
ment of  dissonances.  From  a  distance  it  softened 
and  fitted  pleasantly  into  the  framework  of  the 
wilderness.  The  men's  voices  lent  themselves  well 
to  the  weird  minor  strains  of  the  chanteys.  These 
times — when  the  men  sang,  and  the  night-wind  rose 
and  died  in  the  hemlock  tops — were  Thorpe's  worst 
moments.  His  soul,  tired  with  the  day's  iron  strug- 
gle, fell  to  brooding.  Strange  thoughts  came  to  him, 
strange  visions.  He  wanted  something — he  knew 
not  what;  he  longed,  and  thrilled,  and  aspired  to  a 
greater  glory  than  that  of  brave  deeds,  a  softer  com- 
fort than  his  old  foster  mother,  the  wilderness,  could 
bestow. 

The  men  were  singing  in  a  mighty  chorus,  sway- 
ing their  heads  in  unison,  and  bringing  out  with  a 
roar  the  emphatic  words  of  the  crude  ditties  written 
by  some  genius  from  their  own  ranks. 

"  Come  all  ye  sons  of  freedom  throughout  old  Michigan, 
Come  all  ye  gallant  lumbermen,  list  to  a  shanty  man. 
On  the  banks  of  the  Muskegon,  where  the  rapid  waters  fow. 
OH  I — we'll  range  the  wild  woods  o'er  while  a-lumbering 
we  go." 

Here  was  the  bold  unabashed  front  of  the  pioneer, 
here  was  absolute  certainty  in  the  superiority  of  his 

344 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

calling — absolute  scorn  of  all  others.  Thorpe  passed 
his  hand  across  his  brow.  The  same  spirit  was  once 
fully  and  freely  his. 

iC  The  music  of  our  burnished  axe  shall  make  the  woods  resoundy 
And  many  a  lofty  ancient  pine  will  tumble  tt>  *he  ground. 
At  night  around  our  shanty  fire  we'll  sing  wh.  le  rude  winds 

blow, 
OH.  I — we'll  range  the  wild  woods  o'er  while  a-lumbering 

we  go  !  " 

That  was  what  he  was  here  for.  Things  were  go- 
ing right.  It  would  be  pitiful  to  fail  merely  on 
account  of  this  idiotic  lassitude,  this  unmanly  weak- 
ness, this  boyish  impatience  and  desire  for  play.  He 
a  woodsman !  He  a  fellow  with  these  big  strong  men ! 

A  single  voice,  clear  and  high,  struck  into  a  quick 
measure : 

"  /  am  a  jolly  shanty  boy, 

As  you  will  soon  discover  ; 
To  all  the  dodges  I  am  fly, 

A  hustling  pine-woods  rover* 
A  peavey-hook  it  is  my  pride, 

An  axe  I  well  can  handle. 
To  fell  a  tree  or  punch  a  bull 

Get  rattling  Danny  Randall." 

And  then  with  a  rattle  and  crash  the  whole  Fight- 
ing Forty  shrieked  out  the  chorus : 

44  Bung  yer  eye  I  bung  yer  eye  !  n 
345 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Active,  alert,  prepared  for  any  emergency  that 
might  arise;  hearty,  ready  for  everything,  from 
punching  bulls  to  felling  trees — that  was  something 
like !    Thorpe  despised  himself.    The  song  went  on. 

"  /  love  a  girl  in  Saginaw, 

She  lives  with  her  mother. 
I  defy  all  Michigan 

To  find  such  another. 
'Sot's  tall  and  slim,  her  hair  is  red, 

Her  face  is  plump  and  pretty, 
ohe's  my  daisy  Sunday  best-day  girl, 

And  her  front  name  stands  for  Kitty." 

And  again  as  before  the  Fighting  Forty  howled 
truculently : 

"  Bung  yer  eye  !  bung  yer  eye  !  " 

The  words  were  vulgar,  the  air  a  mere  minor 
chant.  Yet  Thorpe's  mind  was  stilled.  His  aroused 
subconsciousness  had  been  engaged  in  reconstructing 
these  men  entire  as  their  songs  voiced  rudely  the 
inner  characteristics  of  their  beings.  Now  his  spirit 
halted,  finger  on  lip.  Their  bravery,  pride  of  caste, 
resource,  bravado,  boastfulness — all  these  he  had 
checked  off  approvingly.  Here  now  was  the  idea  of 
the  Mate.  Somewhere  for  each  of  them  was  a 
"  Kitty,"  a  "  daisy  Sunday  best-day  girl  " ;  the  etef 
nal  feminine ;  the  softer  side :  the  tenderness,  beauty, 

340 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

glory  of  even  so  harsh  a  world  as  they  were  com- 
pelled to  inhabit.  At  the  present  or  in  the  past 
these  woods  roisterers,  this  Fighting  Forty,  had 
known  love.  Thorpe  arose  abruptly  and  turned  at 
random  into  the  forest.  The  song  pursued  him  as 
he  went,  but  he  heard  only  the  clear  sweet  tones, 
not  the  words.  And  yet  even  the  words  would  have 
spelled  to  his  awakened  sensibilities  another  idea — 
would  have  symbolized,  however  rudely,  compan- 
ionship and  the  human  delight  of  acting  a  part  be- 
fore a  woman. 

"  /  took  her  to  a  dance  one  night, 

A  mossback  gave  the  bidding — 
Silver  fack  bossed  the  shebang, 

And  Big  Dan  played  the  fiddle. 
JVe  danced  and  drank  the  livelong  night 

With  fights  betvjeen  the  dancing, 
Till  Silver  *Jack  cleaned  out  the  ranch 

And  sent  the  mossbacks  prancing," 

And  with  the  increasing  war  and  turmoil  of  the 
quick  water  the  last  shout  of  the  Fighting  Forty 
mingled  faintly  and  was  lost. 

"  Bung  yer  eye  !  bung  yer  eye  !  *' 

Thorpe  found  himself  at  the  edge  of  the  woods 
facing  a  little  glade  into  which  streamed  the  radi- 
ance of  a  full  moon. 

347 


CHAPTER    THIRTY-EIGHT 

THERE  he  stood  and  looked  silently,  not  un- 
derstanding, not  caring  to  inquire.  Across  the 
way  a  white-throat  was  singing,  clear,  beautiful,  like 
the  shadow  of  a  dream.    The  girl  stood  listening. 

Her  small  fair  head  was  inclined  ever  so  little 
sideways  and  her  finger  was  on  her  lips  as  though 
she  wished  to  still  the  very  hush  of  night,  to  which 
impression  the  inclination  of  her  supple  body  lent 
its  grace.  The  moonlight  shone  full  upon  her  coun- 
tenance. A  little  white  face  it  was,  with  wide  clear 
eyes  and  a  sensitive,  proud  mouth  that  now  half 
parted  like  a  child's.  Her  eyebrows  arched  from  her 
straight  nose  in  the  peculiarly  graceful  curve  that 
falls  just  short  of  pride  on  the  one  side  and  of  power 
on  the  other,  to  fill  the  eyes  with  a  pathos  of  trust 
and  innocence.  The  man  watching  could  catch  the 
poise  of  her  long  white  neck  and  the  molten  moon- 
fire  from  her  tumbled  hair — the  color  of  corn-silk, 
but  finer. 

And  yet  these  words  mean  nothing.  A  painter 
might  have  caught  her  charm,  but  he  must  needs  be 
a  poet  as  well — and  a  great  poet,  one  capable  of 
grandeurs  and  subtleties. 

348 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

To  the  young  man  standing  there  rapt  in  the  spell 
of  vague  desire,  of  awakened  vision,  she  seemed 
most  like  a  flower  or  a  mist.  He  tried  to  find  words 
to  formulate  her  to  himself,  but  did  not  succeed. 
Always  it  came  back  to  the  same  idea — the  flower 
and  the  mist.  Like  the  petals  of  a  flower  most  deli- 
cate was  her  questioning,  upturned  face;  like  the 
bend  of  a  flower  most  rare  the  stalk  of  her  graceful 
throat;  like  the  poise  of  a  flower  most  dainty  the 
attitude  of  her  beautiful,  perfect  body  sheathed  in 
a  garment  that  outlined  each  movement,  for  the  in- 
stant in  suspense.  Like  a  mist  the  glimmering  of  her 
skin,  the  shining  of  her  hair,  the  elusive  moon-like 
quality  of  her  whole  personality  as  she  stood  there 
in  the  ghost-like  clearing  listening,  her  fingers  on 
her  lips. 

Behind  her  lurked  the  low,  even  shadow  of  the 
forest  where  the  moon  was  not,  a  band  of  velvet 
against  which  the  girl  and  the  light-touched  twigs 
and  bushes  and  grass  blades  were  etched  like  frost 
against  a  black  window  pane.  There  was  something, 
too,  of  the  frost-work's  evanescent  spiritual  quality 
in  the  scene — as  though  at  any  moment,  with  a  puff 
of  the  balmy  summer  wind,  the  radiant  glade,  the 
hovering  figure,  the  filagreed  silver  of  the  entire 
setting  would  melt  into  the  accustomed  stern  and 
menacing  forest  of  the  northland,  with  its  wolves, 
and  its  wild  deer,  and  the  voices  of  its  sterner 
calling. 

349 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Thorpe  held  his  breath  and  waited.  Again  the 
white-throat  lifted  his  clear,  spiritual  note  across  the 
brightness,  slow,  trembling  with  ecstasy.  The  girl 
never  moved.  She  stood  in  the  moonlight  like  a 
beautiful  emblem  of  silence,  half  real,  half  fancy, 
part  woman,  wholly  divine,  listening  to  the  little 
bird's  message. 

For  the  third  time  the  song  shivered  across  che 
night;  then  Thorpe  with  a  soft  sob,  dropped  his  face 
in  his  hands  and  looked  no  more. 

He  did  not  feel  the  earth  beneath  his  knees,  nor 
the  whip  of  the  sumach  across  his  face;  he  did  not 
see  the  moon  shadows  creep  slowly  along  the  fallen 
birch;  nor  did  he  notice  that  the  white-throat  had 
hushed  its  song.  His  inmost  spirit  was  shaken. 
Something  had  entered  his  soul  and  filled  it  to  the 
brim,  so  that  he  dared  no  longer  stand  in  the  face  of 
radiance  until  he  had  accounted  with  himself.  An- 
other drop  would  overflow  the  cup. 

Ah,  sweet  God,  the  beauty  of  it,  the  beauty  of  it ! 
That  questing,  child-like  starry  gaze,  seeking  so 
purely  to  the  stars  themselves!  That  flower  face, 
those  drooping,  half-parted  lips!  That  inexpressible, 
unseizable  something  they  had  meant !  Thorpe 
searched  humbly  —  eagerly  —  then  with  agony 
through  his  troubled  spirit,  and  in  its  furthermost 
depths  saw  the  mystery  as  beautifully  remote  as 
ever.  It  approached  and  swept  over  him  and  left 
him  gasping  passion-racked.     Ah,  sweet  God,  the 

35o 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

beauty  of  it!  the  beauty  of  it!  the  vision!  the 
dream ! 

He  trembled  and  sobbed  with  his  desire  to  seize 
it,  with  his  impotence  to  express  it,  with  his  failure 
even  to  appreciate  it  as  his  heart  told  him  it  should 
be  appreciated. 

He  dared  not  look.  At  length  he  turned  and 
stumbled  back  through  the  moonlit  forest  crying  on 
his  old  gods  in  vain. 

At  the  banks  of  the  river  he  came  to  a  halt. 
There  in  the  velvet  pines  the  moonlight  slept  calmly, 
and  the  shadows  rested  quietly  under  the  breezeless 
sky.  Near  at  hand  the  river  shouted  as  ever  its  cry 
of  joy  over  the  vitality  of  life,  like  a  spirited  boy 
before  the  face  of  inscrutable  nature.  All  else  was 
silence.  Then  from  the  waste  boomed  a  strange, 
hollow  note,  rising,  dying,  rising  again,  instinct  with 
the  spirit  of  the  wilds.  It  fell,  and  far  away 
sounded  a  heavy  but  distant  crash.  The  cry  lifted 
again.  It  was  the  first  bull  moose  calling  across  the 
wilderness  to  his  mate. 

And  then,  faint  but  clear,  down  the  current  of  a 
chance  breeze  drifted  the  chorus  of  the  Fighting 
Forty. 

"  The  forests  so  brown  at  our  stroke  go  down, 
And  cities  spring  up  where  they  fell; 
While  logs  well  run  and  work  well  done 
Is  the  story  the  shanty  boys  tell" 

m 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Thorpe  turned  from  the  river  with  a  thrust  for- 
ward of  his  head.  He  was  not  a  religious  man,  and 
in  his  six  years'  woods  experience  had  never  been  to 
church.  Now  he  looked  up  over  the  tops  of  the 
pines  to  where  the  Pleiades  glittered  faintly  among 
the  brighter  stars. 

"  Thanks,  God,"  said  he  briefly. 


352 


CHAPTER   THIRTY-NINE 

FOR  several  days  this  impression  satisfied  him 
completely.  He  discovered,  strangely  enough, 
that  his  restlessness  had  left  him,  that  once  more  he 
was  able  to  give  to  his  work  his  former  energy  and 
interest.  It  was  as  though  some  power  had  raised 
its  finger  and  a  storm  had  stilled,  leaving  calm,  un- 
ruffled skies. 

He  did  not  attempt  to  analyze  this;  he  did  not 
even  make  an  effort  to  contemplate  it.  His  critical 
faculty  was  stricken  dumb  and  it  asked  no  questions 
of  him.  At  a  touch  his  entire  life  had  changed. 
Reality  or  vision,  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  some- 
thing so  entirely  different  from  anything  his  imag- 
ination or  experience  had  ever  suggested  to  him,  that 
at  first  he  could  do  no  more  than  permit  passively 
its  influences  to  adjust  themselves  to  his  being. 

Curiosity,  speculation,  longing  —  all  the  more 
active  emotions  remained  in  abeyance  while  out- 
wardly, for  three  days,  Harry  Thorpe  occupied  him- 
self only  with  the  needs  of  the  Fighting  Forty  at 
Camp  One. 

In  the  early  morning  he  went  out  with  the  gang. 
While  they  chopped  or  heaved,  he  stood  by  serenr 

353 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Little  questions  of  expediency  he  solved.  Dilemmas 
he  discussed  leisurely  with  Tim  Shearer.  Occasion- 
ally he  lent  a  shoulder  when  the  peaveys  lacked  of 
prying  a  stubborn  log  from  its  bed.  Not  once  did 
he  glance  at  the  nooning  sun.  His  patience  was 
quiet  and  sure.  When  evening  came  he  smoked 
placidly  outside  the  office,  listening  to  the  conversa- 
tion and  laughter  of  the  men,  caressing  one  of  the 
beagles,  while  the  rest  slumbered  about  his  feet; 
watching  dreamily  the  night  shadows  and  the  bats. 
At  about  nine  o'clock  he  went  to  bed,  and  slept 
soundly.  He  was  vaguely  conscious  of  a  great  peace 
within  him,  a  great  stillness  of  the  spirit,  against 
which  the  metallic  events  of  his  craft  clicked  sharply 
in  vivid  relief.  It  was  the  peace  and  stillness  of  a 
river  before  it  leaps. 

Little  by  little  the  condition  changed.  The  man 
felt  vague  stirrings  of  curiosity.  He  speculated 
aimlessly  as  to  whether  or  not  the  glade,  the  moon- 
light, the  girl,  had  been  real  or  merely  the  figments 
of  imagination.  Almost  immediately  the  answer 
leaped  at  him  from  his  heart.  Since  she  was  so  cer- 
tainly flesh  and  blood,  whence  did  she  come1?  what 
Was  she  doing  there  in  the  wilderness?  His  mind 
pushed  the  query  aside  as  unimportant,  rushing 
eagerly  to  the  essential  point:  When  could  he  see 
her  again*?  How  find  for  the  second  time  the  vision 
before  which  his  heart  felt  the  instant  need  of  pros- 
trating itself.    His  placidity  had  gone.    That  mornr 

354 


THORPE'S   DREAM   GIRL 

ing  he  made  seme  vague  excuse  to  Shearer  and  set 
out  blindly  down  the  river. 

He  did  not  know  where  he  was  going,  any  more 
than  did  the  bull  moose  plunging  through  the  track- 
less wilderness  to  his  mate.  Instinct,  the  instinct  of 
all  wild  natural  creatures,  led  him.  And  so,  with- 
out, thought,  without  clear  intention  even — most 
would  say  by  accident — he  saw  her  again.  It  was 
near  the  "pole  trail";  which  was  less  like  a  trail 
than  a  rail-fence. 

For  when  the  snows  are  deep  and  snowshoes  not 
i:he  property  of  every  man  who  cares  to  journey,  the 
old-fashioned  "pole  trail"  comes  into  use.  It  is 
merely  a  series  of  horses  built  of  timber  across  which 
thick  Norway  logs  are  laid,  about  four  feet  from  the 
ground  to  form  a  continuous  pathway.  A  man 
must  be  a  tight-rope  walker  to  stick  to  the  pole  trail 
when  ice  and  snow  have  sheathed  its  logs.  If  he 
makes  a  misstep,  he  is  precipitated  ludicrously  into 
feathery  depths  through  which  he  must  flounder  to 
the  nearest  timber  horse  before  he  can  remount.  In 
summer,  gas  has  been  said,  it  resembles  nothing  so 
much  as  a  thick  one-rail  fence  of  considerable  height, 
around  which  a  fringe  of  light  brush  has  grown. 

Thorpe  reached  the  fringe  of  bushes,  and  was 
about  to  dodge  under  the  fence,  when  he  saw  her. 
So  he  stopped  short,  concealed  by  the  leaves  and  the 
timber  horse. 

She  stood  on  a  knoll  in  the  middle  of  a  grove  of 
355 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

monster  pines.  There  was  something  of  the  cathe* 
dral  in  the  spot.  A  hush  dwelt  in  the  dusk,  the  long 
columns  lifted  grandly  to  the  Roman  arches  of  the 
frond,  faint  murmurings  stole  here  and  there  like 
whispering  acolytes.  The  girl  stood  tall  and  straight 
among  the  tall,  straight  pines  like  a  figure  on  an  an- 
cient tapestry.  She  was  doing  nothing — just  stand- 
ing there — but  the  awe  of  the  forest  was  in  her 
wide,  clear  eyes. 

The  great  sweet  feeling  clutched  the  young  man's 
throat  again.  But  while  the  other — the  vision  of 
the  frost-work  glade  and  the  spirit-like  figure  of  si- 
lence— had  been  unreal  and  phantasmagoric,  this 
was  of  the  earth.  He  looked,  and  looked,  and 
looked  again.  He  saw  the  full  pure  curve  of  her 
cheek's  contour,  neither  oval  nor  round,  but  like  the 
outline  of  a  certain  kind  of  plum.  He  appreciated 
the  half-pathetic  downward  droop  of  the  corners  of 
her  mouth — her  red  mouth  in  dazzling,  bewitching 
contrast  to  the  milk-whiteness  of  her  skin.  He 
caught  the  fineness  of  her  nose,  straight  as  a  Gre- 
cian's, but  with  some  faint  suggestion  about  the 
nostrils  that  hinted  at  piquance.  And  the  waving 
corn-silk  of  her  altogether  charming  and  unruly 
hair,  the  superb  column  of  her  long  neck  on  which 
her  little  head  poised  proudly  like  a  flower,  her  sup- 
ple body,  whose  curves  had  the  long  undulating 
grace  of  the  current  in  a  swift  river,  her  slender 
white  hand  with  the  pointed  fingers — all  these  he) 

356 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

saw  one  after  the  other,  and  his  soul  shouted  within 
him  at  the  sight.  He  wrestled  with  the  emotions 
that  choked  him.  "  Ah,  God !  Ah,  God !  "  he  cried 
softly  to  himself  like  one  in  pain.  He,  the  man  of 
iron  frame,  of  iron  nerve,  hardened  by  a  hundred 
emergencies,  trembled  in  every  muscle  before  a 
straight,  slender  girl,  clad  all  in  brown,  standing 
alone  in  the  middle  of  the  ancient  forest. 

In  a  moment  she  stirred  slightly,  and  turned. 
Drawing  herself  to  her  full  height,  she  extended  her 
hands  over  her  head  palm  outward,  and,  with  an  in- 
describably graceful  gesture,  half  mockingly  bowed 
a  ceremonious  adieu  to  the  solemn  trees.  Then  with 
a  little  laugh  she  moved  away  in  the  direction  of 
the  river. 

At  once  Thorpe  proved  a  great  need  of  seeing  her 
again.  In  his  present  mood  there  was  nothing  of 
the  awe-stricken  peace  he  had  experienced  after  the 
moonlight  adventure.  He  wanted  the  sight  of  her 
as  he  had  never  wanted  anything  before.  He  must 
have  it,  and  he  looked  about  him  fiercely  as  though 
t.o  challenge  any  force  in  Heaven  or  Hell  that 
would  deprive  him  of  it.  His  eyes  desired  to  follow 
the  soft  white  curve  of  her  cheek,  to  dance  with  the 
light  of  her  corn-silk  hair,  to  delight  in  the  poetic 
movements  of  her  tall,  slim  body,  to  trace  the  full 
outline  of  her  chin,  to  wonder  at  the  carmine  of 
her  lips,  red  as  a  blood-spot  on  the  snow.  These 
things  must  be  at  once.    The  strong  man  desired  it. 

357 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

And  finding  it  impossible,  he  raged  inwardly  and 
tore  the  tranquillities  of  his  heart,  as  on  the  shores 
of  the  distant  Lake  of  Stars,  the  bull-moose  tram- 
pled down  the  bushes  in  his  passion. 

So  it  happened  that  he  ate  hardly  at  all  that  day, 
and  slept  ill,  and  discovered  the  greatest  difficulty 
in  preserving  the  outward  semblance  of  ease  which 
the  presence  of  Tim  Shearer  and  the  Fighting  Forty 
demanded. 

And  next  day  he  saw  her  again,  and  the  next,  be- 
cause the  need  of  his  heart  demanded  it,  and  because, 
simply  enough,  she  came  every  afternoon  to  the 
clump  of  pines  by  the  old  pole  trail. 

Now  had  Thorpe  taken  the  trouble  to  inquire,  he 
could  have  learned  easily  enough  all  there  was  to 
be  known  of  the  affair.  But  he  did  not  take  the 
trouble.  His  consciousness  was  receiving  too  many 
new  impressions,  so  that  in  a  manner  it  became  be- 
wildered. At  first,  as  has  been  seen,  the  mere  effect 
of  the  vision  was  enough;  then  the  sight  of  the  girl 
sufficed  him.  But  now  curiosity  awoke  and  a  desire 
for  something  more.  He  must  speak  to  her,  touch 
her  hand,  look  into  her  eyes.  He  resolved  to  ap 
proach  her,  and  the  mere  thought  choked  him  and 
sent  him  weak. 

When  he  saw  her  again  from  the  shelter  of  the 
pole  trail,  he  dared  not,  and  so  stood  there  prey  to 
a  novel  sensation — that  of  being  baffled  in  an  in- 
tention.    It  awoke  within  him  a  vast  passion  con> 

358 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

pounded  part  of  rage  at  himself,  part  of  longing  for 
that  which  he  could  not  take,  but  most  of  love  for 
the  girl.  As  he  hesitated  in  one  mind  but  in  two 
decisions,  he  saw  that  she  was  walking  slowly  in  his 
direction. 

Perhaps  a  hundred  paces  separated  the  two.  She 
took  them  deliberately,  pausing  now  and  again  to 
listen,  to  pluck  a  leaf,  to  smell  the  fragrant  balsam 
and  fir  tops  as  she  passed  them.  Her  progression 
was  a  series  of  poses,  the  one  of  which  melted  imper- 
ceptibly into  the  other  without  appreciable  pause  of 
transition.  So  subtly  did  her  grace  appeal  to  the 
sense  of  sight,  that  out  of  mere  sympathy  the  other 
senses  responded  with  fictions  of  their  own.  Almost 
could  the  young  man  behind  the  trail  savor  a  faint 
fragrance,  a  faint  music  that  surrounded  and  pre- 
ceded her  like  the  shadows  of  phantoms.  He  knew 
it  as  an  illusion,  born  of  his  desire,  and  yet  it  was 
a  noble  illusion,  for  it  had  its  origin  in  her. 

In  a  moment  she  had  reached  the  fringe  of  brush 
about  the  pole  trail.     They  stood  face  to  face. 

She  gave  a  little  start  of  surprise,  and  her  hand 
leaped  to  her  breast,  where  it  caught  and  stayed. 
Her  child-like  down-drooping  mouth  parted  a  little 
more,  and  the  breath  quickened  through  it.  But  her 
eyes,  her  wide,  trusting,  innocent  eyes,  sought  his 
and  rested. 

He  did  not  move.  The  eagerness,  the  desire,  the 
long  years  of  ceaseless  struggle,  the  thirst  for  affec- 

359 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

tion,  the  sob  of  awe  at  the  moonlit  glade,  the  love 
— all  these  flamed  in  his  eyes  and  fixed  his  gaze  in 
an  unconscious  ardor  that  had  nothing  to  do  with 
convention  or  timidity.  One  on  either  side  of  the 
spike-marked  old  Norway  log  of  the  trail  they  stood, 
and  for  an  appreciable  interval  the  duel  of  their 
glances  lasted — he  masterful,  passionate,  exigent; 
she  proud,  cool,  defensive  in  the  aloofness  of  her 
beauty.  Then  at  last  his  prevailed.  A  faint  color 
rose  from  her  neck,  deepened,  and  spread  over  her 
face  and  forehead.  In  a  moment  she  dropped  her 
eyes. 

"  Don't  you  think  you  stare  a  little  rudely — Mr. 
Thorpe?  "  she  asked. 


36b 


CHAPTER    FORTY 

THE  vision  was  over,  but  the  beauty  remained. 
The  spoken  words  of  protest  made  her  a 
woman.  Never  again  would  she,  nor  any  other 
creature  of  the  earth,  appear  to  Thorpe  as  she  had 
In  the  silver  glade  or  the  cloistered  pines.  He  had 
had  his  moment  of  insight.  The  deeps  had  twice 
opened  to  permit  him  to  look  within.  Now  they 
had  closed  again.  But  out  of  them  had  fluttered  a 
great  love  and  the  priestess  of  it.  Always,  so  long 
as  life  should  be  with  him,  Thorpe  was  destined  to 
see  in  this  tall  graceful  girl  with  the  red  lips  and  the 
white  skin  and  the  corn-silk  hair,  more  beauty, 
more  of  the  great  mysterious  spiritual  beauty  which 
is  eternal,  than  her  father  or  her  mother  or  her  dear- 
est and  best.  For  to  them  the  vision  had  not  been 
vouchsafed,  while  he  had  seen  her  as  the  highest 
symbol  of  God's  splendor. 

Now  she  stood  before  him,  her  head  turned  half 
away,  a  faint  flush  still  tingeing  the  chalk-white  of 
her  skin,  watching  him  with  a  dim,  half-pleading 
smile  in  expectation  of  his  reply. 

"  Ah,  moon  of  my  soul !  light  of  my  life !  " 
he  cried,  but  he  cried   it  within  him,   though   it 

361 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

almost  escaped  his  vigilance  to  his  lips.  What 
he  really  said  sounded  almost  harsh  in  conse- 
quence. 

"  How  did  you  know  my  name?  "  he  asked. 

She  planted  both  elbows  on  the  Norway  and 
framed  her  little  face  deliciously  with  her  long 
pointed  hands. 

"  If  Mr.  Harry  Thorpe  can  ask  that  question," 
she  replied,  "  he  is  not  quite  so  impolite  as  I  had 
thought  him." 

"  If  you  don't  stop  pouting  your  lips,  I  shall  kiss 
them !  "  cried  Harry — to  himself. 

"  How  is  that?  "  he  inquired  breathlessly. 

"  Don't  you  know  who  I  am1?  "  she  asked  in  re- 
turn. 

"A  goddess,  a  beautiful  woman!  "  he  answered 
ridiculously  enough. 

She  looked  straight  at  him.  This  time  his  gaze 
dropped. 

"  I  am  a  friend  of  Elizabeth  Carpenter,  who  is 
Wallace  Carpenter's  sister,  who  I  believe  is  Mr. 
Harry  Thorpe's  partner." 

She  paused  as  though  for  comment.  The  young 
man  opposite  was  occupied  in  many  other  more  im- 
portant directions.  Some  moments  later  the  words 
trickled  into  his  brain,  and  some  moments  after  that 
he  realized  their  meaning. 

"  We  wrote  Mr.  Harry  Thorpe  that  we  were 
about  to  descend  on  his  district  with  wagons  and 

362 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

tents  and  Indians  and  things,  and  asked  him  to  come 
and  see  us." 

"Ah,  heart  o'  mine,  what  clear,  pure  eyes  she 
has !    How  they  look  at  a  man  to  drown  his  soul !  " 

Which,  even  had  it  been  spoken,  ,vas  hardly  the 
comment  one  would  have  expected. 

The  girl  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  steadily, 
then  smiled.  The  change  of  countenance  brought 
Thorpe  to  himself,  and  at  the  same  moment  the 
words  she  had  spoken  reached  his  comprehension. 

"  But  I  never  received  the  letter.  I'm  so  sorry," 
said  he.  "  It  must  be  at  the  mill.  You  see,  I've 
been  up  in  the  woods  for  nearly  a  month." 

"  Then  we'll'have  to  forgive  you." 

"  But  I  should  think  they  would  have  done  some- 
thing for  you  at  the  mill " 

"  Oh,  we  didn't  come  by  way  of  your  mill.  We 
drove  from  Marquette." 

"  I  see,"  cried  Thorpe,  enlightened.  "  But  I'm 
sorry  I  didn't  know.  I'm  sorry  you  didn't  let  me 
know.  I  suppose  you  thought  I  was  still  at  the  mill. 
How  did  you  get  along?     Is  Wallace  with  you*?" 

"  No,"  she  replied,  dropping  her  hands  and 
straightening  her  erect  figure.  "  It's  horrid.  He 
was  coming,  and  then  some  business  came  up  and  he 
couldn't  get  away.  We  are  having  the  loveliest 
time  though.  I  do  adore  the  woods.  Come,"  she 
cried  impatiently,  sweeping  aside  to  leave  a  way 
clear,  "  you  shall  meet  my  friends." 

363 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Thorpe  imagined  she  referred  to  the  rest  of  the 
tenting  party.     He  hesitated. 

"  I  am  hardly  in  fit  condition,"  he  objected. 

She  laughed,  parting  her  red  lips.  "  You  are  ex- 
tremely picturesque  just  as  you  are,"  she  said  with 
rather  embarrassing  directness.  "  I  wouldn't  have 
you  any  different  for  the  world.  But  my  friends 
don't  mind.  They  are  used  to  it."  She  laughed 
again. 

Thorpe  crossed  the  pole  trail,  and  for  the  first 
time  found  himself  by  her  side.  The  warm  summer 
odors  were  in  the  air,  a  dozen  lively  little  birds  sang 
in  the  brush  along  the  rail,  the  sunlight  danced  and 
flickered  through  the  openings. 

Then  suddenly  they  were  among  the  pines,  and 
the  air  was  cool,  the  vista  dim,  and  the  bird-songs 
inconceivably  far  away. 

The  girl  walked  directly  to  the  foot  of  a  pine 
three  feet  through  and  soaring  up  an  inconceivable 
distance  through  the  still  twilight. 

"  This  is  Jimmy,"  said  she  gravely.  "  He  is  a 
dear  good  old  rough  bear  when  you  don't  know  him, 
but  he  likes  me.  If  you  put  your  ear  close  against 
him,"  she  confided,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word, 
"  you  can  hear  him  talking  to  himself.  This  little 
fellow  is  Tommy.  I  don't  care  so  much  for  Tommy 
because  he's  sticky.  Still,  I  like  him  pretty  well, 
and  here's  Dick,  and  that's  Bob,  and  the  one  just 
beyond  is  Jack." 

364 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

"  Where  is  Harry  ?  "  asked  Thorpe. 

"  I  thought  one  in  a  woods  was  quite  sufficient," 
she  replied  with  the  least  little  air  of  impertinence. 

"  Why  do  you  name  them  such  common,  every- 
day names'?  "  he  inquired. 

"I'll  tell  you.  It's  because  they  are  so  big  and 
grand  themselves,  that  it  did  not  seem  to  me  they 
needed  high  -  sounding  names.  What  do  you 
think*? "  she  begged  with  an  appearance  of  the  ut- 
most anxiety. 

Thorpe  expressed  himself  as  in  agreement.  As 
the  half-quizzical  conversation  progressed,  he  found 
their  relations  adjusting  themselves  with  increasing 
rapidity.  He  had  been  successively  the  mystic 
devotee  before  his  vision,  the  worshipper  before  his 
goddess;  now  he  was  unconsciously  assuming  the  at- 
titude of  the  lover  before  his  mistress.  It  needs  al- 
ways this  humanizing  touch  to  render  the  greatest 
of  all  passions  livable. 

And  as  the  human  element  developed,  he  proved 
at  the  same  time  greater  and  greater  difficulty  in  re- 
pressing himself,  and  greater  and  greater  fear  of  the 
results  in  case  he  should  not  do  so.  He  trembled 
with  the  desire  to  touch  her  long  slender  hand,  and 
as  soon  as  his  imagination  had  permitted  him  that 
much,  he  had  already  crushed  her  to  him  and  had 
kissed  passionately  her  starry  face.  Words  hovered 
on  his  lips  longing  for  flight.  He  withheld  them  by 
an  effort  that  left  him  almost  incoherent*  fpr  he 

365 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

feared  with  a  deadly  fear  lest  he  lose  forever  what 
the  vision  had  seemed  to  offer  to  his  hand. 

So  he  said  little,  and  that  lamely,  for  he  dreaded 
to  say  too  much.  To  her  playful  sallies  he  had  no 
riposte.  And  in  consequence  he  fell  more  silent 
with  another  boding — that  he  was  losing  his  cause 
outright  for  lack  of  a  ready  word. 

He  need  not  have  been  alarmed.  A  ""'Oman  in 
such  a  case  hits  as  surely  as  a  man  misses.  Her  very 
daintiness  and  preciosity  of  speech  indicated  it.  For 
where  a  man  becomes  stupid  and  silent,  a  woman 
covers  her  emotions  with  words  and  a  clever  speech. 
Not  in  vain  is  a  proud-spirited  girl  stared  down  in 
such  a  contest  of  looks;  brave  deeds  simply  told  by 
a  friend  are  potent  to  win  interest  in  advance;  a 
straight,  muscular  figure,  a  brown  skin,  a  clear,  di- 
rect eye,  a  carriage  of  power  and  acknowledged 
authority,  strike  hard  at  a  young  imagination;  a 
mighty  passion  sweeps  aside  the  barriers  of  the  heart. 
Such  a  victory,  such  a  friend,  such  a  passion  had 
Thorpe. 

And  so  the  last-spoken  exchange  between  them 
meant  nothing;  but  if  each  could  have  read  the 
unsaid  words  that  quivered  on  the  other's  heart, 
Thorpe  would  have  returned  to  the  Fighting  Forty 
more  tranquilly,  while  she  would  probably  not  have 
returned  to  the  camping  party  at  all  for  a  number 
of  hours. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  had  better  come  with  me," 
366 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

she  said.  "  Make  your  call  and  be  forgiven  on  your 
own  account.  I  don't  want  to  drag  you  in  at  my 
chariot  wheels." 

"  All  right.  I'll  come  this  afternoon,"  Thorpe 
had  replied. 

"  I  love  her,  I  must  have  her.  I  must  go — at 
once,"  his  soul  had  cried,  "  quick — now — before  I 
kiss  her !  " 

"  How  strong  he  is,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  how 
brave-looking;  how  honest!  He  is  different  from 
the  other  men.    He  is  magnificent." 


367 


CHAPTER    FORTY-ONE 

THAT  afternoon  Thorpe  met  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  party,  offered  his  apologies  and 
explanations,  and  was  graciously  forgiven.  He 
found  the  personnel  to  consist  of,  first  of  all,  Mrs. 
Cary,  the  chaperone,  a  very  young  married  woman 
of  twenty-two  or  thereabouts;  her  husband,  a  youth 
of  three  years  older,  clean-shaven,  light-haired, 
quiet-mannered;  Miss  Elizabeth  Carpenter,  who  re- 
sembled her  brother  in  the  characteristics  of  good- 
looks,  vivacious  disposition,  and  curly  hair;  an  at- 
tendant satellite  of  the  masculine  persuasion  called 
Morton;  and  last  of  all  the  girl  whom  Thorpe  had 
already  so  variously  encountered  and  whom  he  now 
met  as  Miss  Hilda  Farrand.  Besides  these  were 
Ginger,  a  squab  negro  built  to  fit  the  galley  of  a 
yacht;  and  three  Indian  guides.  They  inhabited 
tents,  which  made  quite  a  little  encampment. 

Thorpe  was  received  with  enthusiasm.  Wallace 
Carpenter's  stories  of  his  woods  partner,  while  never 
doing  more  than  justice  to  the  truth,  had  been  of  a 
warm  color  tone.  One  and  all  owned  a  lively  curi- 
osity to  see  what  a  real  woodsman  might  be  like. 
When  he  proved  to  be  handsome  and  well-man- 

368 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

nered,  as  well  as  picturesque,  his  reception  was  no 
longer  in  doubt. 

Nothing  could  exceed  his  solicitude  as  to  their 
comfort  and  amusement.  He  inspected  personally 
the  arrangement  of  the  tents,  and  suggested  one  or 
two  changes  conducive  to  the  littler  comforts.  This 
was  not  much  like  ordinary  woods-camping.  The 
largest  wall-tent  contained  three  folding  cots  for 
the  women,  over  which,  in  the  daytime,  were  flung 
bright  -  colored  Navajo  blankets.  Another  was 
spread  on  the  ground.  Thorpe  later,  however,  sent 
over  two  bear-skins,  which  were  acknowledgedly  an 
improvement.  To  the  tent  pole  a  mirror  of  size 
was  nailed,  and  below  it  stood  a  portable  wash- 
stand.  The  second  tent,  devoted  to  the  two  men, 
was  not  quite  so  luxurious ;  but  still  boasted  of  little 
conveniences  the  true  woodsman  would  never  con- 
sider worth  the  bother  of  transporting.  The  third, 
equally  large,  was  the  dining  tent.  The  other 
three,  smaller,  and  on  the  A-tent  order,  served  re- 
spectively as  sleeping-rooms  for  Ginger  and  the  Indi- 
ans, and  as  a  general  storehouse  for  provisions  and 
impedimenta. 

Thorpe  sent  an  Indian  to  Camp  One  for  the  bear- 
skins, put  the  rest  to  digging  a  trench  around  the 
sleeping  tents  in  order  that  a  rain-storm  might  not 
cause  a  flood,  and  ordered  Ginger  to  excavate  a 
square  hole  some  feet  deep,  which  he  intended  to 
utilize  as  a  larder. 

369 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Then  he  gave  Morton  and  Cary  hints  as  to  the 
deer  they  wished  to  capture,  pointed  out  the  best 
trout-pools,  and  issued  advice  as  to  the  compassing 
of  certain  blackberries,  not  far  distant. 

Simple  things  enough  they  were  to  do — it  was  as 
though  a  city  man  were  to  direct  a  newcomer  to 
Central  Park,  or  impart  to  him  a  test  for  the  desti- 
nations of  trolley  lines — yet  Thorpe's  new  friends 
were  profoundly  impressed  with  his  knowledge  of 
occult  things.  The  forest  was  to  them,  as  to  most, 
more  or  less  of  a  mystery,  unfathomable  except  to 
the  favored  of  genius.  A  man  who  could  interpret 
it,  even  a  little,  into  the  speech  of  everyday  comfort 
and  expediency  possessed  a  strong  claim  to  their 
imaginations.  When  he  had  finished  these  practical 
affairs,  they  wanted  him  to  sit  down  and  tell  them 
more  things — to  dine  with  them,  to  smoke  about 
their  camp-fire  in  the  evening.  But  here  they  en- 
countered a  decided  check.  Thorpe  became  silent, 
almost  morose.  He  talked  in  monosyllables,  and 
soon  went  away.  They  did  not  know  what  to  make 
of  him,  and  so  were,  of  course,  the  more  profoundly 
interested.  The  truth  was,  his  habitual  reticence 
would  not  have  permitted  a  great  degree  of  expan- 
sion in  any  case,  but  now  the  presence  of  Hilda 
made  any  but  an  attitude  of  hushed  waiting  for  her 
words  utterly  impossible  to  him.  He  wished  well 
to  them  all.  If  there  was  anything  he  could  do  for 
them,  he  would  gladly  undertake  it.     But  he  would 

370 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

not  act  the  lion  nor  tell  of  his,  to  them,  interesting 
adventures. 

However,  when  he  discovered  that  Hilda  had 
ceased  visiting  the  clump  of  pines  near  the  pole  trail, 
his  desire  forced  him  back  among  these  people.  He 
used  to  walk  in  swiftly  at  almost  any  time  of  day, 
casting  quick  glances  here  and  there  in  search  of  his 
divinity. 

"  How  do,  Mrs.  Cary,"  he  would  say.  "  Nice 
weather.     Enjoying  yourself?  " 

On  receiving  the  reply  he  would  answer  heartily, 
"  That's  good !  "  and  lapse  into  silence.  When 
Hilda  was  about  he  followed  every  movement  of 
hers  with  his  eyes,  so  that  his  strange  conduct  lacked 
no  explanation  or  interpretation,  in  the  minds  of  the 
women  at  least.  Thrice  he  redeemed  his  reputation 
for  being  an  interesting  character  by  conducting  the 
party  on  little  expeditions  here  and  there  about  the 
country.  Then  his  woodcraft  and  resourcefulness 
spoke  for  him.  They  asked  him  about  the  lumber- 
ing operations,  but  he  seemed  indifferent. 

"  Nothing  to  interest  you,"  he  affirmed.  "  We're 
just  cutting  roads  now.  You  ought  to  be  here  for 
the  drive." 

To  him  there  was  really  nothing  interesting  in  the 
cutting  of  roads  nor  the  clearing  of  streams.  It  was 
all  in  a  day's  work. 

Once  he  took  them  over  to  see  Camp  One.  They 
Were  immensely  pleased,  and  were  correspondingly 

37i 


THE   BLAZED    TRAIL 

loud  in  exclamations.  Thorpe's  comments  were 
brief  and  dry.  After  the  noon  dinner  he  had  the 
unfortunate  idea  of  commending  the  singing  of  one 
of  the  men. 

"  Oh,  I'd  like  to  hear  him,"  cried  Elizabeth  Car- 
penter. "  Can't  you  get  him  to  sing  for  us,  Mr. 
Thorpe?" 

Thorpe  went  to  the  men's  camp,  where  he  singled 
out  the  unfortunate  lumber-jack  in  question. 

"  Come  on,  Archie,"  he  said.  "  The  ladies  want 
to  hear  you  sing." 

The  man  objected,  refused,  pleaded,  and  finally 
obeyed  what  amounted  to  a  command.  Thorpe  nv» 
entered  the  office  with  triumph,  his  victim  in  tow. 

"  This  is  Archie  Harris,"  he  announced  heartily. 
"  He's  our  best  singer  just  now.  Take  a  chair, 
Archie." 

The  man  perched  on  the  edge  of  the  chair  and 
looked  straight  out  before  him. 

"Do  sing  for  us,  won't  you,  Mr.  Harris?"  re- 
quested Mrs.  Cary  in  her  sweetest  tones. 

The  man  said  nothing,  nor  moved  a  muscle,  but 
turned  a  brick-red.  An  embarrassed  silence  of  ex- 
pectation ensued. 

"  Hit  her  up,  Archie,"  encouraged  Thorpe. 

"  I  ain't  much  in  practice  no  how,"  objected  the 
man  in  a  little  voice,  without  moving. 

"  I'm  sure  you'll  find  us  very  appreciative,"  said 
Elizabeth  Carpenter. 

372 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

f  Give  us  a  song,  Archie,  let  her  go,"  urged 
Thorpe  impatiently. 

"  All  right,"  replied  the  man  very  meekly. 

Another  silence  fell.  It  got  to  be  a  little  awful. 
The  poor  woodsman,  pilloried  before  the  regards  of 
this  polite  circle,  out  of  his  element,  suffering  cru- 
elly, nevertheless  made  no  sign  nor  movement  one 
way  or  the  other.  At  last  when  the  situation  had 
almost  reached  the  breaking  point  of  hysteria,  he 
began. 

His  voice  ordinarily  was  rather  a  good  tenor. 
Now  he  pitched  it  too  high;  and  went  on  straining 
at  the  high  notes  to  the  very  end.  Instead  of  offer- 
ing one  of  the  typical  woods  chanteys,  he  conceived 
that  before  so  grand  an  audience  he  should  give 
something  fancy.  He  therefore  struck  into  a  senti- 
mental song  of  the  cheap  music-hall  type.  There 
were  nine  verses,  and  he  drawled  through  them  all, 
hanging  whiningly  on  the  nasal  notes  in  the  fashion 
of  the  untrained  singer.  Instead  of  being  a  per- 
formance typical  of  the  strange  woods  genius,  it  was 
merely  an  atrocious  bit  of  cheap  sentimental  ism, 
badly  rendered. 

The  audience  listened  politely.  When  the  song 
was  finished  it  murmured  faint  thanks. 

"  Oh,  give  us  '  Jack  Haggerty,'  Archie,"  urged 
Thorpe. 

But  the  woodsman  rose,  nodded  his  head  awk- 
wardly, and  made  his  escape.    He  entered  the  men's 

373 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

camp  swearing,  and  for  the  remainder  of  the  da) 
made  none  but  blasphemous  remarks. 

The  beagles,  however,  were  a  complete  success. 
They  tumbled  about,  and  lolled  their  tongues,  and 
laughed  up  out  of  a  tangle  of  themselves  in  a 
fascinating  manner.  Altogether  the  visit  to  Camp 
One  was  a  success,  the  more  so  in  that  on  the 
way  back,  for  the  first  time,  Thorpe  found  that 
chance — and  Mrs.  Gary — had  allotted  Hilda  to  his 
care. 

A  hundred  yards  down  the  trail  they  encountered 
Phil.  The  dwarf  stopped  short,  looked  attentively 
at  the  girl,  and  then  softly  approached.  When 
quite  near  to  her  he  again  stopped,  gazing  at  her 
with  his  soul  in  his  liquid  eyes. 

"  You  are  more  beautiful  than  the  sea  at  night," 
he  said  directly. 

The  others  laughed.  "  There's  sincerity  for  you, 
Miss  Hilda,"  said  young  Mr.  Morton. 

"Who  is  he'?"  asked  the  girl  after  they  had 
moved  on. 

"  Our  chore-boy,"  answered  Thorpe  with  great 
brevity,  for  he  was  thinking  of  something  much 
more  important. 

After  the  rest  of  the  party  had  gone  ahead,  leav- 
ing them  sauntering  more  slowly  down  the  trail,  he 
gave  it  voice. 

"  Why  don't  you  come  to  the  pine  grove  am 
more?  "  he  asked  bluntly. 

374 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

"Why*?"  countered  Hilda  in  the  manner  of 
women. 

"  I  want  to  see  you  there.  I  want  to  talk  with 
you.    I  can't  talk  with  all  that  crowd  around." 

"  I'll  come  to-morrow,"  she  said — then  with  a 
little  mischievous  laugh,  "  if  that'll  make  you  talk." 

"  You  must  think  I'm  awfully  stupid,"  agreed 
Thorpe  bitterly. 

"  Ah,  no !  Ah,  no !  "  she  protested  softly.  "  You 
must  not  say  that." 

She  was  looking  at  him  very  tenderly,  if  he  had 
only  known  it,  but  he  did  not,  for  his  face  was  set 
in  discontented  lines  straight  before  him. 

"  It  is  true,"  he  replied. 

They  walked  on  in  silence,  while  gradually  the 
dangerous  fascination  of  the  woods  crept  down  on 
them.  Just  before  sunset  a  hush  falls  on  nature. 
The  wind  has  died,  the  birds  have  not  yet  begun 
their  evening  songs,  the  light  itself  seems  to  have 
left  off  sparkling  and  to  lie  still  across  the  land- 
scape. Such  a  hush  now  lay  on  their  spirits.  Over 
the  way  a  creeper  was  droning  sleepily  a  little  chant 
— the  only  voice  in  the  wilderness.  In  the  heart  of 
the  man,  too,  a  little  voice  raised  itself  alone. 

"Sweetheart,  sweetheart,  sweetheart!"  it 
breathed  over  and  over  again.  After  a  while  he 
said  it  gently  in  a  half  voice. 

"  No,  no,  hush !  "  said  the  girl,  and  she  laid  the 
soft,  warm  fingers  of  one  hand  across  his  lips,  and 

375 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

looked  at  him  from  a  height  of  superior  soft-eyed 
tenderness  as  a  woman  might  look  at  a  child.  "  You 
must  not.     It  is  not  right." 

Then  he  kissed  the  fingers  very  gently  before  they 
were  withdrawn,  and  she  said  nothing  at  all  in  re- 
buke, but  looked  straight  before  her  with  troubled 
eyes. 

The  voices  of  evening  began  to  raise  their  jubi- 
lant notes.  From  a  tree  near  by  the  olive  thrush 
sang  like  clockwork;  over  beyond  carolled  eagerly  a 
black-throat,  a  myrtle  warbler,  a  dozen  song  spar- 
rows, and  a  hundred  vireos  and  creepers.  Down 
deep  in  the  blackness  of  the  ancient  woods  a  hermit 
thrush  uttered  his  solemn  bell-note,  like  the  tolling 
of  the  spirit  of  peace.  And  in  Thorpe's  heart  a 
thousand  tumultuous  voices  that  had  suddenty 
roused  to  clamor,  died  into  nothingness  at  the  music 
of  her  softly  protesting  voice. 


37^ 


CHAPTER    FORTY-TWO 

THORPE  returned  to  Camp  One  shortly  aftet 
dark.  He  found  there  Scotty  Parsons,  who 
had  come  up  to  take  charge  of  the  crew  engaged  in 
clearing  French  Creek.  The  man  brought  him  a 
number  of  letters  sent  on  by  Collins,  among  which 
was  one  from  Wallace  Carpenter. 

After  commending  the  camping  party  to  his  com- 
panion's care,  and  giving  minute  directions  as  to 
how  and  where  to  meet  it,  the  young  fellow  went  on 
to  say  that  affairs  were  going  badly  on  the  Board. 

"  Some  interest  that  I  haven't  been  able  to  make 
out  yet  has  been  hammering  our  stocks  down  day 
after  day,"  he  wrote.  "  I  don't  understand  it,  for 
the  stocks  are  good — they  rest  on  a  solid  foundation 
of  value — and  intrinsically  are  worth  more  than  is 
bid  for  them  right  now.  Some  powerful  concern  is 
beating  them  down  for  a  purpose  of  its  own. 
Sooner  or  later  they  will  let  up,  and  then  we'll  get 
things  back  in  good  shape.  I  am  amply  protected 
now,  thanks  to  you,  and  am  not  at  all  afraid  of 
losing  my  holdings.  The  only  difficulty  is  that  I 
am  unable  to  predict  exactly  when  the  other  fellows 
will  decide  that  they  have  accomplished  whatever 

377 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

they  are  about,  and  let  up.  It  may  not  be  before 
next  year.  In  that  case  I  couldn't  help  you  out  on 
those  notes  when  they  come  due.  So  put  in  your 
best  licks,  old  man.  You  may  have  to  pony  up  for 
a  little  while,  though,  of  course,  sooner  or  later  I 
can  put  it  all  back.  Then,  you  bet  your  life,  I  keep 
out  of  it.    Lumbering's  good  enough  for  yours  truly. 

"  By  the  way,  you  might  shine  up  to  Hilda  Far- 
rand  and  join  the  rest  of  the  fortune-hunters.  She's 
got  it  to  throw  to  the  birds,  and  in  her  own  right. 
Seriously,  old  fellow,  don't  put  yourself  into  a  false 
position  through  ignorance.  Not  that  there  is  any 
danger  to  a  hardened  old  woodsman  like  you.*' 

Thorpe  went  to  the  group  of  pkies  by  the  pole 
trail  the  following  afternoon  because  he  had  said  he 
Would,  but  with  a  new  attitude  of  mind.  He  had 
come  into  contact  with  the  artificiality  of  conven- 
tional relations,  and  it  stiffened  him.  No  wonder 
she  had  made  him  keep  silence  the  afternoon  before ! 
She  had  done  it  gently  and  nicely,  to  be  sure,  but 
that  was  part  of  her  good-breeding.  Hilda  found 
him  formal,  reserved,  polite;  and  marvelled  at  it. 
In  her  was  no  coquetry.  She  was  as  straightforward 
and  sincere  as  the  look  of  her  eyes. 

They  sat  down  on  a  log.  Hilda  turned  to  him 
with  her  graceful  air  of  confidence. 

"  Now  talk  to  me,"  said  she. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Thorpe  in  a  practical  tone 
of  voice,  "  what  do  you  want  me  to  talk  about?  " 

3/3 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

She  shot  a  swift,  troubled  glance  at  him,  con- 
cluded herself  mistaken,  and  said : 

"  Tell  me  about  what  you  do  up  here — your  life 
— all  about  it." 

"  Well — "  replied  Thorpe  formally,  "  we  haven't 
much  to  interest  a  girl  like  you.  It  is  a  question  of 
saw  logs  with  us  " — and  he  went  on  in  his  dryest, 
most  technical  manner  to  detail  the  process  of  man- 
ufacture.    It  might  as  well  have  been  bricks. 

The  girl  did  not  understand.  She  was  hurt.  As 
surely  as  the  sun  tangled  in  the  distant  pine  frond, 
she  had  seen  in  his  eyes  a  great  passion.  Now  it  was 
coldly  withdrawn. 

"  What  has  happened  to  you*?  "  she  asked  finally, 
out  of  her  great  sincerity. 

"Me?    Nothing,"  replied  Thorpe. 

A  forced  silence  fell  upon  him.  Hilda  seemed 
gradually  to  lose  herself  in  reverie.  After  a  time 
she  said  softly: 

"  Don't  you  love  this  woods'?  " 

"  It's  an  excellent  bunch  of  pine,"  replied  Thorpe 
bluntly.     "  It'll  cut  three  million  at  least." 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried  drawing  back,  her  hands  pressed 
against  the  log  either  side  of  her,  her  eyes  wide. 

After  a  moment  she  caught  her  breath  convul- 
sively, and  Thorpe  became  conscious  that  she  was 
studying  him  furtively  with  a  quickening  doubt. 

After  that,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  there  was  no 
more  talk  between   them.     She  was  too  hurt  and 

379 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

shocked  and  disillusioned  to  make  the  necessary  ef- 
fort to  go  away.  He  was  too  proud  to  put  an  end 
to  the  position.  They  sat  there  apparently  absorbed 
in  thought,  while  all  about  them  the  accustomed  life 
of  the  woods  drew  nearer  and  nearer  to  them,  as  the 
splash  of  their  entrance  into  it  died  away. 

A  red  squirrel  poised  thirty  feet  above  them, 
leaped,  and  clung  swaying  to  a  sapling-top  a  dozen 
yards  from  the  tree  he  had  quitted.  Two  chickadees, 
upside  down,  uttering  liquid  undertones,  searched 
busily  for  insects  next  their  heads.  Wilson'? 
warblers,  pine  creepers,  black-throats,  myrtle  and 
magnolia  warblers,  oven  birds,  peewits,  blue-jays, 
purple  finches,  passed  silently  or  noisily,  each  ac- 
cording to  his  kind.  Once  a  lone  spruce  hen  dusted 
herself  in  a  stray  patch  of  sunlight  until  it  shim- 
mered on  a  tree  trunk,  raised  upward,  and  disap- 
peared, to  give  place  to  long  level  dusty  shafts  that 
shot  here  and  there  through  the  pines  laying  the 
spell  of  sunset  on  the  noisy  woods  brawlers. 

Unconsciously  the  first  strain  of  opposition  and 
of  hurt  surprise  had  relaxed.  Each  thought  vaguely 
his  thoughts.  Then  in  the  depths  of  the  forest,  per- 
haps near  at  hand,  perhaps  far  away,  a  single  hermit 
thrush  began  to  sing.  His  song  was  of  three  solemn 
deep  liquid  notes;  followed  by  a  slight  rhetorical 
pause  as  of  contemplation;  and  then,  deliberately* 
three  notes  more  on  a  different  key — and  so  on  with- 
out haste  and  without  pause.     It  is  the  most  digni* 

380 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

fled,  the  most  spiritual,  the  holiest  of  woods  utter- 
ances. Combined  with  the  evening  shadows  and  the 
warm  soft  air,  it  offered  to  the  heart  an  almost  irre- 
sistible appeal.  The  man's  artificial  antagonism 
modified;  the  woman's  disenchantment  began  to 
seem  unreal. 

Then  subtly  over  and  through  the  bird-song  an- 
other sound  became  audible.  At  first  it  merely  re- 
peated the  three  notes  faintly,  like  an  echo,  but  with 
a  rich,  sad  undertone  that  brought  tears.  Then, 
timidly  and  still  softly,  it  elaborated  the  theme, 
weaving  in  and  out  through  the  original  three  the 
glitter  and  shimmer  of  a  splendid  web  of  sound, 
spreading  before  the  awakened  imagination  a  broad 
river  of  woods-imagery  that  reflected  on  its  surface 
all  the  subtler  moods  of  the  forest.  The  pine  shad- 
ows, the  calls  of  the  wild  creatures,  the  flow  of  the 
brook,  the  splashes  of  sunlight  through  the  trees,  the 
sigh  of  the  wind,  the  shout  of  the  rapid — all  these 
were  there,  distinctly  to  be  felt  in  their  most  ethereal 
and  beautiful  forms.  And  yet  it  was  all  slight  and 
tenuous  as  though  the  crack  of  a  twig  would  break 
it  through — so  that  over  it  continually  like  a  grand 
full  organ-tone  repeated  the  notes  of  the  bird  itself. 

With  the  first  sigh  of  the  wonder-music  the  girl 
had  started  and  caught  her  breath  in  the  exquisite 
pleasure  of  it.  As  it  went  on  they  both  forgot 
everything  but  the  harmony  and  each  other. 

"  Ah,  beautiful !  "  she  murmured. 
381 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

•'  What  is  it?  "  he  whispered  marvelling. 

"  A  violin — played  by  a  master." 

The  bird  suddenly  hushed,  and  at  once  the  strain 
abandoned  the  woods-note  and  took  another  motif. 
At  first  it  played  softly  in  the  higher  notes,  a  tinks 
ling  lightsome  little  melody  that  stirred  a  kindly 
surface-smile  over  a  full  heart.  Then  suddenly,, 
without  transition,  it  dropped  to  the  lower  register, 
and  began  to  sob  and  wail  in  the  full  vibrating 
power  of  a  great  passion. 

And  the  theme  it  treated  was  love.  It  spoke 
solemnly,  fearfully  of  the  greatness  of  it,  the  glory. 
These  as  abstractions  it  amplified  in  fine  full- 
breathed  chords  that  swept  the  spirit  up  and  up  as 
on  the  waves  of  a  mighty  organ.  Then  one  by  one 
the  voices  of  other  things  were  heard — the  tinkling 
of  laughter,  the  roar  of  a  city,  the  sob  of  a  grief,  a 
cry  of  pain  suddenly  shooting  across  the  sound,  the 
clank  of  a  machine,  the  tumult  of  a  river,  the  puff 
of  a  steamboat,  the  murmuring  of  a  vast  crowd — 
and  one  by  one,  without  seeming  in  the  least  to 
change  their  character,  they  merged  imperceptibly 
into,  and  were  part  of  the  grand-breathed  chords,  so 
that  at  last  all  the  fames  and  ambitions  and  passions 
of  the  world  came,  in  their  apotheosis,  to  be  only 
parts  of  the  master-passion  of  them  all. 

And  while  the  echoes  of  the  greater  glory  still 
swept  beneath  their  uplifted  souls  like  ebbing  waves, 
so  that  they  still  sat   rigid  and  staring   with   the 

382 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

majesty  of  it,  the  violin  softly  began  to  whisper. 
Beautiful  it  was  as  a  spirit,  beautiful  beyond  words, 
beautiful  beyond  thought.  Its  beauty  struck  sharp 
at  the  heart.  And  they  two  sat  there  hand  in  hand 
dreaming — dreaming — dreaming 

At  last  the  poignant  ecstasy  seemed  slowly,  slowly 
to  die.  Fainter  and  fainter  ebbed  the  music. 
Through  it  as  through  a  mist  the  solemn  aloof  forest 
began  to  show  to  the  consciousness  of  the  two.  They 
sought  each  other's  eyes  gently  smiling.  The  music 
was  very  soft  and  dim  and  sad.  They  leaned  to  each 
other  with  a  sob.  Their  lips  met.  The  music 
ceased. 

Alone  in  the  forest  side  by  side  they  looked  out 
together  for  a  moment  into  that  eternal  vision  which 
lovers  only  are  permitted  to  see.  The  shadows  fell. 
About  them  brooded  the  inscrutable  pines  stretching 
a  canopy  over  them  enthroned.  A  single  last  shaft 
of  the  sun  struck  full  upon  them,  a  single  light-spot 
in  the  gathering  gloom.    They  were  beautiful. 

And  over  behind  the  trees,  out  of  the  light  and 
the  love  and  the  beauty,  little  Phil  huddled,  his  great 
shaggy  head  bowed  in  his  arms.  Beside  him  lay  his 
violin,  and  beside  that  his  bow,  broken.  He  had 
snapped  it  across  his  knee.  That  day  he  had  heard 
at  last  the  Heart  Song  of  the  Violin,  and  uttering  it, 
had  bestowed  love.  But  in  accordance  with  his 
prophecy  he  had  that  day  lost  what  he  cared  for 
most  in  all  the  world,  his  friend. 

383 


CHAPTER    FORTY-THREE 

THAT  was  the  moon  of  delight.  The  days 
passed  through  the  hazy  forest  like  stately  fig- 
ures from  an  old  masque.  In  the  pine  grove  on  the 
knoll  the  man  and  the  woman  had  erected  a  temple 
to  love,  and  love  showed  them  one  to  the  other. 

In  Hilda  Farrand  was  no  guile,  no  coquetry,  no 
deceit.  So  perfect  was  her  naturalism  that  often  by 
those  who  knew  her  least  she  was  considered  af- 
fected. Her  trust  in  whomever  she  found  herself 
with  attained  so  directly  its  reward ;  her  unconscious- 
ness of  pose  was  so  rhythmically  graceful ;  her  igno- 
rance and  innocence  so  triumphantly  effective,  that 
the  mind  with  difficulty  rid  itself  of  the  belief  that 
it  was  all  carefully  studied.  This  was  not  true. 
She  honestly  did  not  know  that  she  was  beautiful; 
was  unaware  of  her  grace;  did  not  realize  the  po- 
tency of  her  wealth. 

This  absolute  lack  of  self-consciousness  was  most 
potent  in  overcoming  Thorpe's  natural  reticence. 
He  expanded  to  her.  She  came  to  idolize  him  in  a 
manner  at  once  inspiring  and  touching  in  so  beauti- 
ful a  creature.  In  him  she  saw  reflected  all  the  lofty 
attractions  of  character  which  she  herself  possessed, 

384 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

but  of  which  she  was  entirely  unaware.  Through 
his  words  she  saw  to  an  ideal.  His  most  trivial 
actions  were  ascribed  to  motives  of  a  dignity  which 
would  have  been  ridiculous,  if  it  had  not  been  a 
little  pathetic.  The  woods-life,  the  striving  of  the 
pioneer  kindled  her  imagination.  She  seized  upon 
the  great  facts  of  them  and  fitted  those  facts  with 
reasons  of  her  own.  Her  insight  perceived  the  ad- 
venturous spirit,  the  battle-courage,  the  indomitable 
steadfastness  which  always  in  reality  lie  back  of 
these  men  of  the  frontier  to  urge  them  into  the  life; 
and  of  them  constructed  conscious  motives  of  con- 
duct. To  her  fancy  the  lumbermen,  of  whom  Thorpe 
was  one,  were  self-conscious  agents  of  advance. 
They  chose  hardship,  loneliness,  the  strenuous  life 
because  they  wished  to  clear  the  way  for  a  higher 
civilization.  To  her  it  seemed  a  great  and  noble 
sacrifice.  She  did  not  perceive  that  while  all  this  is 
true,  it  is  under  the  surface,  the  real  spur  is  a  desire 
to  get  on,  and  a  hope  of  making  money.  For, 
strangely  enough,  she  differentiated  sharply  the  life 
and  the  reasons  for  it.  An  existence  in  subduing  the 
forest  was  to  her  ideal;  the  making  of  a  fortune 
through  a  lumbering  firm  she  did  not  consider  in  the 
least  important.  That  this  distinction  was  most 
potent,  the  sequel  will  show. 

In  all  of  it  she  was  absolutely  sincere,  and  not  at 
all  stupid.  She  had  always  had  all  she  could  spend, 
without  question.    Money  meant  nothing  to  her,  one 

385 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

way  or  the  other.  If  need  was,  she  might  have  ex- 
perienced some  difficulty  in  learning  how  to  econo- 
mize, but  none  at  all  in  adjusting  herself  to  the 
necessity  of  it.  The  material  had  become,  in  all 
sincerity,  a  basis  for  the  spiritual.  She  recognized 
but  two  sorts  of  motives;  of  which  the  ideal,  com- 
prising the  poetic,  the  daring,  the  beautiful,  were 
good;  and  the  material,  meaning  the  sordid  and 
selfish,  were  bad.  With  her  the  mere  money-getting 
would  have  to  be  allied  with  some  great  and  poetic 
excuse. 

That  is  the  only  sort  of  aristocracy,  in  the  popular 
sense  of  the  word,  which  is  real;  the  only  scorn  of 
money  which  can  be  respected. 

There  are  some  faces  which  symbolize  to  the  be- 
holder many  subtleties  of  soul-beauty  which  by  no 
other  method  could  gain  expression.  Those  subtle- 
ties may  not,  probably  do  not,  exist  in  the  possessor 
of  the  face.  The  power  of  such  a  countenance  lies 
not  so  much  in  what  it  actually  represents,  as  in  the 
suggestion  it  holds  out  to  another.  So  often  it  is 
with  a  beautiful  character.  Analyze  it  carefully, 
and  you  will  reduce  it  generally  to  absolute  sim- 
plicity and  absolute  purity — two  elements  common 
enough  in  adulteration ;  but  place  it  face  to  face  with 
a  more  complex  personality,  and  mirror-like  it  will 
take  on  a  hundred  delicate  shades  of  ethical  beauty, 
while  at  the  same  time  preserving  its  own  lofty  spir* 
ituality. 

386 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

Thus  Hilda  Farrand  reflected  Thorpe.  In  the 
clear  mirror  of  her  heart  his  image  rested  trans- 
figured. It  was  as  though  the  glass  were  magic,  so 
that  the  gross  and  material  was  absorbed  and  lost, 
while  the  more  spiritual  qualities  reflected  back.  So 
the  image  was  retained  in  its  entirety,  but  ethereal* 
ized,  refined.  It  is  necessary  to  attempt,  even  thus 
faintly  and  inadequately,  a  sketch  of  Hilda's  love, 
for  a  partial  understanding  of  it  is  necessary  to  the 
comprehension  of  what  followed  the  moon  of  de- 
light. 

That  moon  saw  a  variety  of  changes. 

The  bed  of  French  Creek  was  cleared.  Three  of 
the  roads  were  finished,  and  the  last  begun.  So 
much  for  the  work  of  it. 

Morton  and  Cary  shot  four  deer  between  them, 
which  was  unpardonably  against  the  law,  caught  fish 
in  plenty,  smoked  two  and  a  half  pounds  of  tobacco, 
and  read  half  of  one  novel.  Mrs.  Cary  and  Miss 
Carpenter  walked  a  total  of  over  a  hundred  miles, 
bought  twelve  pounds  of  Indian  work  of  all  sorts, 
embroidered  the  circle  of  two  embroidery  frames, 
learned  to  paddle  a  birch-bark  canoe,  picked  fifteen 
quarts  of  berries,  and  gained  six  pounds  in  weight. 
All  the  party  together  accomplished  five  picnics,  four 
explorations,  and  thirty  excellent  camp-fires  in  the 
evening.    So  much  for  the  fun  of  it. 

Little  Phil  disappeared  utterly,  taking  with  him 
his  violin,  but  leaving  his  broken  bow.    Thorpe  has 

387 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

it  even  to  this  day.  The  lumberman  caused  search 
and  inquiry  on  all  sides.  The  cripple  was  never 
heard  of  again.  He  had  lived  his  brief  hour,  taken 
his  subtle  artist's  vengeance  of  misplayed  notes  on 
the  crude  appreciation  of  men  too  coarse-fibred  to 
recognize  it,  brought  together  by  the  might  of  sacri- 
fice and  consummate  genius  two  hearts  on  the  brink 
of  misunderstanding; — now  there  was  no  further 
need  for  him,  he  had  gone.  So  much  for  the  tragedy 
of  it. 

"  I  saw  you  long  ago,"  said  Hilda  to  Thorpe. 
*'  Long,  long  ago,  when  I  was  quite  a  young  girl.  I 
had  been  visiting  in  Detroit,  and  was  on  my  way  all 
alone  to  catch  an  early  train.  You  stood  on  the, 
corner  thinking,  tall  and  straight  and  brown,  with  a 
weather-beaten  old  hat  and  a  weather-beaten  old 
coat  and  weather-beaten  old  moccasins,  and  such  a 
proud,  clear,  undaunted  look  on  your  face.  I  have 
remembered  you  ever  since." 

And  then  he  told  her  of  the  race  to  the  Land 
Office,  while  her  eyes  grew  brighter  and  brighter  with 
the  epic  splendor  of  the  story.  She  told  him  that 
she  had  loved  him  from  that  moment — and  believed 
iher  telling;  while  he,  the  unsentimental  leader  of 
men,  persuaded  himself  and  her  that  he  had  always 
in  some  mysterious  manner  carried  her  image 
prophetically  in  his  heart.  So  much  for  the  love 
of  it. 

In  the  last  davs  of  the  month  of  delight  Thorpe 
388 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

received  a  second  letter  from  his  partner,  which  to 
some  extent  awakened  him  to  the  realities. 

"  My  dear  Harry,"  it  ran.  "  I  have  made  a  start- 
ling discovery.  The  other  fellow  is  Morrison.  I 
have  been  a  blind,  stupid  dolt,  and  am  caught  nicely. 
You  can't  call  me  any  more  names  than  I  have  al- 
ready called  myself.  Morrison  has  been  in  it  from 
the  start.  By  an  accident  I  learned  he  was  behind 
the  fellow  who  induced  me  to  invest,  and  it  is  he 
who  has  been  hammering  the  stock  down  ever  since. 
They  couldn't  lick  you  at  your  game,  so  they  tackled 
me  at  mine.  I'm  not  the  man  you  are,  Harry,  and 
I've  made  a  mess  of  it.  Of  course  their  scheme  is 
plain  enough  on  the  face  of  it.  They're  going  to 
involve  me  so  deeply  that  I  will  drag  the  firm  down 
with  me. 

"  If  you  can  fix  it  to  meet  those  notes,  they  can't 
do  it.  I  have  ample  margin  to  cover  any  more  de- 
clines they  may  be  able  to  bring  about.  Don't  fret 
about  that.  Just  as  sure  as  you  can  pay  that  sixty 
thousand,  just  so  sure  we'll  be  ahead  of  the  game  at 
this  time  next  year.  For  God's  sake  get  a  move  on 
you,  old  man.  If  you  don't — good  Lord!  The 
firm'll  bust  because  she  can't  pay;  I'll  bust  because 
I'll  have  to  let  my  stock  go  on  margins — it'll  be  an 
awful  smash.  But  you'll  get  there,  so  we  needn't 
worry.  I've  been  an  awful  fool,  and  I've  no  right 
to  do  the  getting  into  trouble  and  leave  you  to 
the  hard  work  of  getting  out  again.     But  as  part- 

389 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

ner  I'm  going  to  insist  on  your  having  a  salary — 
etc." 

The  news  aroused  all  Thorpe's  martial  spirit. 
Now  at  last  the  mystery  surrounding  Morrison  & 
Daly's  unnatural  complaisance  was  riven.  It  had 
come  to  grapples  again.  He  was  glad  of  it.  Meet 
those  notes'?  Well  I  guess  so!  He'd  show  them 
what  sort  of  a  proposition  they  had  tackled.  Sneak- 
ing, underhanded  scoundrels !  taking  advantage  of  a 
mere  boy.  Meet  those  notes?  You  bet  he  would • 
and  then  he'd  go  down  there  and  boost  those  stocks 
until  M.  &  D.  looked  like  a  last  year's  bird's  nest. 
He  thrust  the  letter  in  his  pocket  and  walked  buoy* 
antly  to  the  pines. 

The  two  lovers  sat  there  all  the  afternoon  drink- 
ing in  half  sadly  the  joy  of  the  forest  and  of  being 
near  each  other,  for  the  moon  of  delight  was  almost 
done.  In  a  week  the  camping  party  would  be  break- 
ing up,  and  Hilda  must  return  to  the  city.  It  was 
uncertain  when  they  would  be  able  to  see  each  other 
again,  though  there  was  talk  of  getting  up  a  winter 
party  to  visit  Camp  One  in  January.  The  affair 
would  be  unique. 

Suddenly  the  girl  broke  off  and  put  her  fingers  to 
her  lips.  For  some  time,  dimly,  an  intermittent  and 
faint  sound  had  been  felt,  rather  than  actually 
heard,  like  the  irregular  muffled  beating  of  a  heart. 
Gradually  it  had  insisted  on  the  attention.  Now  at 
last  it  broke  through  the  film  of  consciousness. 

39<? 


THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

Thorpe  listened.  Then  his  face  lit  mightily  with 
the  joy  of  battle. 

"  My  axe-men,"  he  cried.  "  They  are  cutting  the 
road." 

A  faint  call  echoed.  Then  without  warning, 
nearer  at  hand  the  sharp  ring  of  an  axe  sounded 
through  the  forest. 


391 


PART  V 

THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 


CHAPTER    FORTY-FOUR 

FOR  a  moment  they  sat  listening  to  the  clear 
staccato  knocking  of  the  distant  blows,  and 
the  more  forceful  thuds  of  the  man  nearer  at  hand. 
A  bird  or  so  darted  from  the  direction  of  the  sound 
and  shot  silently  into  the  thicket  behind  them. 

"What  are  they  doing1?  Are  they  cutting  lum- 
ber?" asked  Hilda. 

"  No,"  answered  Thorpe,  "  we  do  not  cut  saw 
logs  at  this  time  of  year.  They  are  clearing  out  a 
road." 

"  Where  does  it  go  to?  " 

"  Well,  nowhere  in  particular.  That  is,  it  is  a 
logging  road  that  starts  at  the  river  and  wanders  up 
through  the  woods  where  the  pine  is." 

"  How  clear  the  axes  sound.  Can't  we  go  down 
and  watch  them  a  little  while?  " 

"The  main  gang  is  a  long  distance  away;  sound 
carries  very  clearly  in  this  still  air.  As  for  that 
fellow  you  hear  so  plainly,  he  is  only  clearing  out 
small  stuff  to  get  ready  for  the  others.  You 
wouldn't  see  anything  different  from  your  Indian 
chopping  the  cordwood  for  your  camp  fire.  He 
won't  chop  out  any  big  trees." 

395 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  Let's  not  go,  then,"  said  Hilda  submissively. 

"  When  you  come  up  in  the  winter,"  he  pursued, 
"  you  will  see  any  amount  of  big  timber  felled." 

"  I  would  like  to  know  more  about  it,"  she  sighed, 
a  quaint  little  air  of  childish  petulance  graving  two 
lines  between  her  eyebrows.  "  Do  you  know,  Harry, 
you  are  a  singularly  uncommunicative  sort  of  being. 
I  have  to  guess  that  your  life  is  interesting  and  pic- 
turesque— that  is,"  she  amended,  "  I  should  have  to 
do  so  if  Wallace  Carpenter  had  not  told  me  a  little 
something  about  it.  Sometimes  I  think  you  are  not 
nearly  poet  enough  for  the  life  you  are  living.  Why, 
you  are  wonderful,  you  men  of  the  north,  and  you 
let  us  ordinary  mortals  who  have  not  the  gift  of 
divination  imagine  you  entirely  occupied  with  how 
many  pounds  of  iron  chain  you  are  going  to  need 
during  the  winter."  She  said  these  things  lightly  as 
one  who  speaks  things  not  for  serious  belief. 

"  It  is  something  that  way,"  he  agreed  with  a 
laugh. 

"  Do  you  know,  sir,"  she  persisted,  "  that  I  really 
don't  know  anything  at  all  about  the  life  you  lead 
here?  From  what  I  have  seen,  you  might  be  per- 
petually occupied  in  eating  things  in  a  log  cabin, 
and  in  disappearing  to  perform  some  mysterious 
rites  in  the  forest."  She  looked  at  him  with  a 
smiling  mouth  but  tender  eyes,  her  head  tilted  back 
slightly. 

"  It's  a  good  deal  that  way,  too,"  he  agreed  again. 
396 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

"  We  use  a  barrel  of  flour  in  Camp  One  every  two 
and  a  half  days !  " 

She  shook  her  head  in  a  faint  negation  that  only 
half  understood  what  he  was  saying,  her  whole  heart 
in  her  tender  gaze. 

"  Sit  there,"  she  breathed  very  softly,  pointing  to 
the  dried  needles  on  which  her  feet  rested,  but  with- 
out altering  the  position  of  her  head  or  the  stead- 
fastness of  her  look. 

He  obeyed. 

"  Now  tell  me,"  she  breathed,  still  in  the  fas- 
sinated  monotone. 

"What?"  he  inquired. 

"Your  life;  what  you  do;  all  about  it.  You 
must  tell  me  a  story." 

Thorpe  settled  himself  more  lazily,  and  laughed 
with  quiet  enjoyment.  Never  had  he  felt  the  ex- 
pansion of  a  similar  mood.  The  barrier  between 
himself  and  self-expression  had  faded,  leaving  not 
the  smallest  debris  of  the  old  stubborn  feeling. 

"  The  story  of  the  woods,"  he  began,  "  the  story 
of  the  saw  log.  It  would  take  a  bigger  man  than  I 
to  tell  it.  I  doubt  if  any  one  man  ever  would  be  big 
enough.  It  is  a  drama,  a  struggle,  a  battle.  Those 
men  you  hear  there  are  only  the  skirmishers  extend- 
ing the  firing  line.  We  are  fighting  always  with 
Time.  I'll  have  to  hurry  now  to  get  those  roads 
done  and  a  certain  creek  cleared  before  the  snow. 
Then  we'll  have  to  keep  on  the  keen  move  to  finish 

397 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

our  cutting  before  the  deep  snow;  to  haul  our  logs 
before  the  spring  thaws;  to  float  them  down  the 
river  while  the  freshet  water  lasts.  When  we  gain 
a  day  we  have  scored  a  victory;  when  the  wilderness 
puts  us  back  an  hour,  we  have  suffered  a  defeat. 
Our  ammunition  is  Time;  our  small  shot  the  min- 
utes, our  heavy  ordnance  the  hours !  " 

The  girl  placed  her  hand  on  his  shoulder.     He 
covered  it  with  his  own. 

"  But  we  win !  "  he  cried.  "  We  win !  " 
"That  is  what  I  like,"  she  said  softly,  " —  the 
strong  spirit  that  wins !  "  She  hesitated,  then  went 
on  gently,  "  But  the  battlefields,  Harry;  to  me  they 
are  dreadful.  I  went  walking  yesterday  morning, 
before  you  came  over,  and  after  a  while  I  found 
myself  in  the  most  awful  place.  The  stumps  of 
trees,  the  dead  branches,  the  trunks  lying  all  about, 
and  the  glaring  hot  sun  over  everything!  Harry, 
there  was  not  a  single  bird  in  all  that  waste,  a  single 
green  thing.  You  don't  know  how  it  affected  me 
so  early  in  the  morning.  I  saw  just  one  lonesome 
pine  tree  that  had  been  left  for  some  reason  or  an- 
other, standing  there  like  a  sentinel.  I  could  shut 
my  eyes  and  see  all  the  others  standing,  and  almost 
hear  the  birds  singing  and  the  wind  in  the  branches, 
just  as  it  is  here."  She  seized  his  fingers  in  her  other 
hand.  "  Harry,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  I  don't  be- 
lieve I  can  ever  forget  that  experience,  any  more 
than  I  could  have  forgotten  a  battlefield,  were  I  to 

398 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

See  one.  I  can  shut  my  eyes  now,  and  can  see  this 
place,  our  dear  little  wooded  knoll  wasted  and  black- 
ened as  that  was." 

The  man  twisted  his  shoulder  uneasily  and  with- 
drew his  hand. 

"  Harry,"  she  said  again,  after  a  pause,  "  you 
must  promise  to  leave  this  woods  until  the  very  last. 
I  suppose  it  must  all  be  cut  down  some  day,  but  I  do 
not  want  to  be  here  to  see  after  it  is  all  over." 

Thorpe  remained  silent. 

"  Men  do  not  care  much  for  keepsakes,  do  they, 
Harry*? — they  don't  save  letters  and  flowers  as  we 
girls  do — but  even  a  man  can  feel  the  value  of  a 
great  beautiful  keepsake  such  as  this,  can't  he,  dear? 
Our  meeting-place — do  you  remember  how  I  found 
you  down  there  by  the  old  pole  trail,  staring  as 
though  you  had  seen  a  ghost? — and  that  beauti- 
ful, beautiful  music !  It  must  always  be  our  most 
sacred  memory.  Promise  me  you  will  save  it  until 
the  very,  very  last." 

Thorpe  said  nothing  because  he  could  not  rally  his 
faculties.  The  sentimental  association  connected 
with  the  grove  had  actually  never  occurred  to  him. 
His  keepsakes  were  impressions  which  he  carefully 
guarded  in  his  memory.  To  the  natural  masculine 
indifference  toward  material  bits  of  sentiment  he  had 
added  the  instinct  of  the  strictly  portable  early  de- 
veloped in  the  rover.  He  had  never  even  possessed 
a  photograph  of  his  sister.     Now  this  sudden  dis- 

399 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

covery  that  such  things  might  be  part  of  the  woof 
of  another  person's  spiritual  garment  came  to  him 
ready-grown  to  the  proportions  of  a  problem. 

In  selecting  the  districts  for  the  season's  cut,  he 
had  included  in  his  estimates  this  very  grove.  Since 
then  he  had  seen  no  reason  for  changing  his  decision. 
The  operations  would  not  commence  until  winter. 
By  that  time  the  lovers  would  no  longer  care  to  use 
it  as  at  present.  Now  rapidly  he  passed  in  review 
a  dozen  expedients  by  which  his  plan  might  be  modi- 
fied to  permit  of  the  grove's  exclusion.  His  practical 
mind  discovered  flaws  in  every  one.  Other  bodies 
of  timber  promising  a  return  of  ten  thousand  dollars 
were  not  to  be  found  near  the  river,  and  time  now 
lacked  for  the  cutting  of  roads  to  more  distant 
forties. 

"  Hilda,"  he  broke  in  abruptly  at  last,  "  the  men 
you  hear  are  clearing  a  road  to  this  very  timber." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  she  asked. 

"  This  timber  is  marked  for  cutting  this  very 
winter." 

She  had  not  a  suspicion  of  the  true  state  of  af- 
fairs. "  Isn't  it  lucky  I  spoke  of  it !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  How  could  you  have  forgotten  to  countermand  the 
order !    You  must  see  to  it  to-day ;  now !  " 

She  sprang  up  impulsively  and  stood  waiting  for 
him.  He  arose  more  slowly.  Even  before  he  spoke 
her  eyes  dilated  with  the  shock  from  her  quick  in- 
tuitions. 

400 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

"  Hilda,  I  cannot,"  he  said. 

She  stood  very  still  for  some  seconds. 

"  Why  not*?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

"  Because  I  have  not  time  to  cut  a  road  through 
to  another  bunch  of  pine.     It  is  this  or  nothing." 

"  Why  not  nothing,  then?  " 

"  I  want  the  money  this  will  bring." 

His  choice  of  a  verb  was  unfortunate.  The  em- 
ployment of  that  one  little  word  opened  the  girl's 
mind  to  a  flood  of  old  suspicions  which  the  frank 
charm  of  the  northland  had  thrust  outside.  Hilda 
Farrand  was  an  heiress  and  a  beautiful  girl.  She 
had  been  constantly  reminded  of  the  one  fact  by  the 
attempts  of  men  to  use  flattery  of  the  other  as  a 
key  to  her  heart  and  her  fortune.  From  early  girl- 
hood she  had  been  sought  by  the  brilliant  impe- 
cunious of  two  continents.  The  continued  experi- 
ence had  varnished  her  self-esteem  with  a  glaze  of 
cynicism  sufficiently  consistent  to  protect  it  against 
any  but  the  strongest  attack.  She  believed  in  no 
man's  protestations.  She  distrusted  every  man's 
motives  as  far  as  herself  was  concerned.  This  atti- 
tude of  mind  was  not  unbecoming  in  her  for  the 
simple  reason  that  it  destroyed  none  of  her  gracious- 
ness  as  regards  other  human  relations  besides  that  of 
love.  That  men  should  seek  her  in  matrimony  from 
a  selfish  motive  was  as  much  to  be  expected  as  that 
flies  should  seek  the  sugar  bowl.  She  accepted  the 
fact  as  one  of  nature's  laws,  annoying  enough  but 

401 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

inevitable;  a  thing  to  guard  against,  but  not  one  of 
sufficient  moment  to  grieve  over. 

With  Thorpe,  however,  her  suspicions  had  been 
lulled.  There  is  something  virile  and  genuine  about 
the  woods  and  the  men  who  inhabit  them  that 
strongly  predisposes  the  mind  to  accept  as  proved  in 
their  entirety  all  the  other  virtues.  Hilda  had  fallen 
into  this  state  of  mind.  She  endowed  each  of  the 
men  whom  she  encountered  with  all  the  robust  quali- 
ties she  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  as  part  of 
nature's  charm  in  the  wilderness.  Now  at  a  word 
her  eyes  were  opened  to  what  she  had  done.  She 
saw  that  she  had  assumed  unquestioningly  that  her 
lover  possessed  the  qualities  of  his  environment. 

Not  for  a  moment  did  she  doubt  the  reality  of 
her  love.  She  had  conceived  one  of  those  deep,  up- 
lifting passions  possible  only  to  a  young  girl.  But 
her  cynical  experience  warned  her  that  the  reality  of 
that  passion's  object  was  not  proven  by  any  test 
besides  the  fallible  one  of  her  own  poetizing  imag- 
ination. The  reality  of  the  ideal  she  had  constructed 
might  be  a  vanishable  quantity  even  though  the  love 
of  it  was  not.  So  to  the  interview  that  ensued  she 
brought,  not  the  partiality  of  a  loving  heart,  nor 
even  the  impartiality  of  one  sitting  in  judgment,  but 
rather  the  perverted  prejudice  of  one  who  actually 
fears  the  truth. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  for  what  you  want  the 
money1?  "  she  asked. 

402 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

The  young  man  caught  the  note  of  distrust.  At 
once,  instinctively,  his  own  confidence  vanished.  He 
drew  within  himself,  again  beyond  the  power  of 
justifying  himself  with  the  needed  word. 

"  The  firm  needs  it  in  the  business,"  said  he. 

Her  next  question  countered  instantaneously. 

"  Does  the  firm  need  the  money  more  than  you  do 
me4?" 

They  stared  at  each  other  in  the  silence  of  the 
situations  that  had  so  suddenly  developed.  It  had 
come  into  being  without  their  volition,  as  a  dust 
cloud  springs  up  on  a  plain. 

"  You  do  not  mean  that,  Hilda,"  said  Thorpe 
quietly.     "  It  hardly  comes  to  that." 

"  Indeed  it  does,"  she  replied,  every  nerve  of  her 
fine  organization  strung  to  excitement.  "  I  should 
be  more  to  you  than  any  firm." 

"  Sometimes  it  is  necessary  to  look  after  the  bread 
and  butter,"  Thorpe  reminded  her  gently,  although 
he  knew  that  was  not  the  real  reason  at  all. 

"  If  your  firm  can't  supply  it,  1  can,"  she  an- 
swered. "  It  seems  strange  that  you  won't  grant  my 
first  request  of  you,  merely  because  of  a  little 
money." 

"  It  isn't  a  little  money,"  he  objected,  catching 
man-like  at  the  practical  question.  "  You  don't 
realize  what  an  amount  a  clump  of  pine  like  this 
stands  for.  Just  in  saw  logs,  before  it  is  made  into 
lumber,  it  will  be  worth  about  thirty  thousand  dol- 

403 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

lars — of  course  there's  the  expense  of  logging  to  pay 
out  of  that,"  he  added,  out  of  his  aecurate  business 
conservatism,  "  but  there's  ten  thousand  dollars' 
profit  in  it." 

The  girl,  exasperated  by  cold  details  at  such  a 
time,  blazed  out.  "  I  never  heard  anything  so 
ridiculous  in  my  life !  "  she  cried.  "  Either  you  are 
not  at  all  the  man  I  thought  you,  or  you  have  some 
better  reason  than  you  have  given.  Tell  me,  Harry ; 
tell  me  at  once.  You  don't  know  what  you  are 
doing." 

"  The  firm  needs  it,  Hilda,"  said  Thorpe,  "  in 
order  to  succeed.  If  we  do  not  cut  this  pine,  we 
may  fail." 

In  that  he  stated  his  religion.  The  duty  of  success 
was  to  him  one  of  the  loftiest  of  abstractions,  for  it 
measured  the  degree  of  a  man's  efficiency  in  the  sta- 
tion to  which  God  had  called  him.  The  money,  as 
such,  was  nothing  to  him. 

Unfortunately  the  girl  had  learned  a  different 
language.  She  knew  nothing  of  the  hardships,  the 
struggles,  the  delight  of  winning  for  the  sake  of  vic- 
tory rather  than  the  sake  of  spoils.  To  her,  success 
meant  getting  a  lot  of  money.  The  name  by  which 
Thorpe  labelled  his  most  sacred  principle,  to  her 
represented  something  base  and  sordid.  She  had 
more  money  herself  than  she  knew.  It  hurt  her  to 
the  soul  that  the  condition  of  a  small  money-making 
machine,  as  she  considered  the  lumber  firm,  should 

404 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

be  weighed  even  for  an  instant  against  her  love.  It 
was  a  great  deal  Thorpe's  fault  that  she  so  saw  the 
firm.  He  might  easily  have  shown  her  the  great 
forces  and  principles  for  which  it  stood. 

"  If  I  were  a  man,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was 
tense,  "  if  I  were  a  man  and  loved  a  woman,  I  would 
be  ready  to  give  up  everything  for  her.  My  riches, 
my  pride,  my  life,  my  honor,  my  soul  even — they 
would  be  as  nothing,  as  less  than  nothing  to  me — if 
I  loved.  Harry,  don't  let  me  think  I  am  mistaken. 
Let  this  miserable  firm  of  yours  fail,  if  fail  it  must 
for  lack  of  my  poor  little  temple  of  dreams,"  she 
held  out  her  hands  with  a  tender  gesture  of  appeal. 
The  affair  had  gone  beyond  the  preservation  of  a 
few  trees.  It  had  become  the  question  of  an  ideal. 
Gradually,  in  spite  of  herself,  the  conviction  was 
forcing  itself  upon  her  that  the  man  she  had  loved 
was  no  different  from  the  rest;  that  the  greed  of  the 
dollar  had  corrupted  him  too.  By  the  mere  yielding 
to  her  wishes,  she  wanted  to  prove  the  suspicion 
wrong. 

Now  the  strange  part  of  the  whole  situation  was, 
chat  in  two  words  Thorpe  could  have  cleared  it.  If 
he  had  explained  that  he  needed  the  ten  thousand 
dollars  to  help  pay  a  note  given  to  save  from  ruin  a 
foolish  friend,  he  would  have  supplied  to  the  affair 
just  the  higher  motive  the  girl's  clear  spirituality 
demanded.  Then  she  would  have  shared  enthusi- 
astically in  the  sacrifice,  and  been  the  more  loving 

405 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

and  repentant  from  her  momentary  doubt.  All  she 
needed  was  that  the  man  should  prove  himself  actu- 
ated by  a  noble,  instead  of  a  sordid,  motive.  The 
young  man  did  not  say  the  two  words,  because  in  all 
honesty  he  thought  them  unimportant.  It  seemed 
to  him  quite  natural  that  he  should  go  on  Wallace 
Carpenter's  note.  That  fact  altered  not  a  bit  the 
main  necessity  of  success.  It  was  a  man's  duty  to 
make  the  best  of  himself — it  was  Thorpe's  duty  to 
prove  himself  supremely  efficient  in  his  chosen  call- 
ing; the  mere  coincidence  that  his  partner's  troubles 
worked  along  the  same  lines  meant  nothing  to  the 
logic  of  the  situation.  In  stating  baldly  that  he 
needed  the  money  to  assure  the  firm's  existence,  he 
imagined  he  had  adduced  the  strongest  possible  rea- 
son for  his  attitude.  If  the  girl  was  not  influenced 
by  that,  the  case  was  hopeless. 

It  was  the  difference  of  training  rather  than  the 
difference  of  ideas.  Both  clung  to  unselfishness  as 
the  highest  reason  for  human  action;  but  each  ex- 
pressed the  thought  in  a  manner  incomprehensible  to 
the  other. 

"  I  cannot,  Hilda,"  he  answered  steadily. 

"  You  sell  me  for  ten  thousand  dollars !  I  cannot 
believe  it !  Harry !  Harry !  Must  I  put  it  to  you  as 
a  choice?  Don't  you  love  me  enough  to  spare  me 
that?" 

He  did  not  reply.  As  long  as  it  remained  a 
dilemma,  he  would  not  reply.    He  was  in  the  right. 

406 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

"  Do  you  need  the  money  more  than  you  do  me? 
more  than  you  do  love1?  "  she  begged,  her  soul  in  her 
eyes;  for  she  was  begging  also  for  herself.  "  Think, 
Harry;  it  is  the  last  chance!  " 

Once  more  he  was  face  to  face  with  a  vital  de- 
cision. To  his  surprise  he  discovered  in  his  mind  no 
doubt  as  to  what  the  answer  should  be.  He  experi- 
enced no  conflict  of  mind;  no  hesitation;  for  the  mo- 
ment, no  regret.  During  all  his  woods  life  he  had 
been  following  diligently  the  trail  he  had  blazed  for 
his  conduct.  Now  his  feet  carried  him  unconsciously 
to  the  3ame  end.  There  was  no  other  way  out.  In 
the  winter  of  his  trouble  the  clipped  trees  alone 
guided  him,  and  at  the  end  of  them  he  found  his 
decision.  It  is  in  crises  of  this  sort,  when  a  little 
reflection  or  consideration  would  do  wonders  to  pre- 
vent a  catastrophe,  that  all  the  forgotten  deeds,  de- 
cisions, principles,  and  thoughts  of  a  man's  past  life 
combine  solidly  into  the  walls  of  fatality,  so  that 
in  spite  of  himself  he  finds  he  must  act  in  accordance 
with  them.  In  answer  to  Hilda's  question  he  merely 
inclined  his  head. 

"  I  have  seen  a  vision,"  said  she  simply,  and  low- 
ered her  head  to  conceal  her  eyes.  Then  she  looked 
at  him  again.  "  There  can  be  nothing  better  than 
love,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  one  thing,"  said  Thorpe,  "  — the  duty  of 
success." 

The  man  had  stated  his  creed;  the  woman  hers. 
407 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

The  one  is  born  perfect  enough  for  love;  the  other 
must  work,  must  attain  the  completeness  of  a  ful- 
filled function,  must  succeed,  to  deserve  it. 

She  left  him  then,  and  did  not  see  him  again. 
Four  days  later  the  camping  party  left.  Thorpe  sent 
Tim  Shearer  over,  as  his  most  efficient  man,  to  see 
that  they  got  off  without  difficulty,  but  himself  re- 
tired on  some  excuse  to  Camp  Four.  Three  weeks 
gone  in  October  he  received  a  marked  newspaper 
announcing  the  engagement  of  Miss  Hilda  Farrand 
to  Mr.  Hildreth  Morton  of  Chicago. 

He  had  burned  his  ships,  and  stood  now  on  an 
unfriendly  shore.  The  first  sacrifice  to  his  jealous 
god  had  been  consummated,  and  now,  live  or  die,  he 
stood  pledged  to  win  his  fight. 


4<VK 


CHAPTER    FORTY-FIVE 

WINTER  set  in  early  and  continued  late ; 
which  in  the  end  was  a  good  thing  for  the 
year's  cut.  The  season  was  capricious,  hanging  for 
days  at  a  time  at  the  brink  of  a  thaw,  only  to  stiffen 
again  into  severe  weather.  This  was  trying  on  the 
nerves.  For  at  each  of  these  false  alarms  the  six 
camps  fell  into  a  feverish  haste  to  get  the  job  fin- 
ished before  the  break-up.  It  was  really  quite  ex- 
traordinary how  much  was  accomplished  under  the 
nagging  spur  of  weather  conditions  and  the  cruel 
rowel  ling  of  Thorpe. 

The  latter  had  now  no  thought  beyond  his  work, 
and  that  was  the  thought  of  a  madman.  He  had 
been  stern  and  unyielding  enough  before,  goodness 
knows,  but  now  he  was  terrible.  His  restless  energy 
permeated  every  molecule  in  the  economic  structure 
over  which  he  presided,  roused  it  to  intense  vibra- 
tion. Not  for  an  instant  was  there  a  resting  spell. 
The  veriest  chore-boy  talked,  thought,  dreamed  of 
nothing  but  saw  logs.  Men  whispered  vaguely  of  a 
record  cut.  Teamsters  looked  upon  their  success  or 
failure  to  keep  near  the  top  on  the  day's  haul  as  a 
signal  victory  or  a  disgraceful  defeat.  The  difficul- 
ties of  snow,  accident,  topography  which  an  ever- 

400 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

watchful  nature  threw  down  before  the  rolling  car 
of  this  industry,  were  swept  aside  like  straws.  Little 
time  was  wasted  and  no  opportunities.  It  did  not 
matter  how  smoothly  affairs  happened  to  be  running 
for  the  moment,  every  advantage,  even  the  smallest, 
was  eagerly  seized  to  advance  the  work.  A  drop  of 
five  degrees  during  the  frequent  warm  spells  brought 
out  the  sprinklers,  even  in  dead  of  night ;  an  accident 
was  white-hot  in  the  forge  almost  before  the  crack 
of  the  iron  had  ceased  to  echo.  At  night  the  men 
fell  into  their  bunks  like  sandbags,  and  their  last 
conscious  thought,  if  indeed  they  had  any  at  all, 
was  of  eagerness  for  the  morrow  in  order  that  they 
might  push  the  grand  total  up  another  notch.  It 
was  madness;  but  it  was  the  madness  these  men 
loved. 

For  now  to  his  old  religion  Thorpe  had  added  a 
fanaticism,  and  over  the  fanaticism  was  gradually 
creeping  a  film  of  doubt.  To  the  conscientious 
energy  which  a  sense  of  duty  supplied,  was  added 
the  tremendous  kinetic  force  of  a  love  turned  into 
other  channels.  And  in  the  wild  nights  while  the 
other  men  slept,  Thorpe's  half-crazed  brain  was  re- 
volving over  and  over  again  the  words  of  the  sen- 
tence he  had  heard  from  Hilda's  lips :  "  There  can 
be  nothing  better  than  love." 

His  actions,  his  mind,  his  very  soul  vehemently 
denied  the  proposition.  He  clung  as  ever  to  his  high 
Puritanic  idea  of  man's  purpose.    But  down  deep  in 

410 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

a  very  tiny,  sacred  corner  of  his  heart  a  very  small 
voice  sometimes  made  itself  heard  when  other,  more 
militant  voices  were  still :  "  It  may  be;  it  may  be !  " 

The  influence  of  this  voice  was  practically  noth- 
ing. It  made  itself  heard  occasionally.  Perhaps 
even,  for  the  time  being,  its  weight  counted  on  the 
other  side  of  the  scale;  for  Thorpe  took  pains  to 
deny  it  fiercely,  both  directly  and  indirectly  by  in- 
creased exertions.  But  it  persisted;  and  once  in  a 
moon  or  so,  when  the  conditions  were  quite  favor- 
able, it  attained  for  an  instant  a  shred  of  belief. 

Probably  never  since  the  Puritan  days  of  New 
England  has  a  community  lived  as  sternly  as  did 
that  winter  of  1888  the  six  camps  under  Thorpe's 
management.  There  was  something  a  little  inspir- 
ing about  it.  The  men  fronted  their  daily  work  with 
the  same  grim-faced,  clear-eyed  steadiness  of  vet- 
erans going  into  battle;  with  the  same  confidence, 
the  same  sure  patience  that  disposes  effectively  of 
one  thing  before  going  on  to  the  next.  There  was 
little  merely  excitable  bustle;  there  was  no  rest. 
Nothing  could  stand  against  such  a  spirit.  Nothing 
did.  The  skirmishers  which  the  wilderness  threw 
out  were  brushed  away.  Even  the  inevitable  delays 
seemed  not  so  much  stoppages  as  the  instant's  pause 
of  a  heavy  vehicle  in  a  snowdrift,  succeeded  by  the 
momentary  acceleration  as  the  plunge  carried  it 
through.  In  the  main,  and  by  large,  the  machine 
moved  steadily  and  inexorably. 

411 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

And  yet  one  possessed  of  the  finer  spiritual  intui- 
tions could  not  have  shaken  off  the  belief  in  an 
impending  struggle.  The  feel  of  it  was  in  the  air. 
Nature's  forces  were  too  mighty  to  be  so  slightly 
overcome;  the  splendid  energy  developed  in  these 
camps  too  vast  to  be  wasted  on  facile  success.  Over 
against  each  other  were  two  great  powers,  alike  in 
their  calm  confidence,  animated  with  the  loftiest  and 
most  dignified  spirit  of  enmity.  Slowly  they  were 
moving  toward  each  other.  The  air  was  surcharged 
with  the  electricity  of  their  opposition.  Just  how 
the  struggle  would  begin  was  uncertain;  but  its  in- 
evitability was  as  assured  as  its  magnitude.  Thorpe 
knew  it,  and  shut  his  teeth,  looking  keenly  about 
him.  The  Fighting  Forty  knew  it,  and  longed  for 
the  grapple  to  come.  The  other  camps  knew  it,  and 
followed  their  leader  with  perfect  trust.  The  affair 
was  an  epitome  of  the  historic  combats  begun  with 
David  and  Goliath.  It  was  an  affair  of  Titans. 
The  little  courageous  men  watched  their  enemy  with 
cat's  eyes. 

The  last  month  of  hauling  was  also  one  of  snow. 
In  this  condition  were  few  severe  storms,  but  each 
day  a  little  fell.  By  and  by  the  accumulation 
amounted  to  much.  In  the  woods  where  the  wind 
could  not  get  at  it,  it  lay  deep  and  soft  above  the 
tops  of  bushes.  The  grouse  ate  browse  from  the 
slender  hardwood  tips  like  a  lot  of  goldfinches,  or 
precipitated  themselves  headlong  down  through  five 

412 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

feet  of  snow  to  reach  the  ground.  Often  Thorpe 
would  come  across  the  irregular  holes  of  their  en- 
trance. Then  if  he  took  the  trouble  to  stamp  about 
a  little  in  the  vicinity  with  his  snowshoes,  the  bird 
would  spring  unexpectedly  from  the  clear  snow, 
scattering  a  cloud  with  its  strong  wings.  The  deer, 
herded  together,  tramped  "  yards  "  where  the  feed 
was  good.  Between  the  yards  ran  narrow  trails. 
When  the  animals  went  from  one  yard  to  another 
in  these  trails,  their  ears  and  antlers  alone  were 
visible.  On  either  side  of  the  logging  roads  the  snow 
piled  so  high  as  to  form  a  kind  of  rampart.  When 
all  this  water  in  suspense  should  begin  to  flow,  and 
to  seek  its  level  in  the  water-courses  of  the  district, 
f  the  logs  would  have  plenty  to  float  them,  at  least. 

So  late  did  the  cold  weather  last  that,  even  with 
the  added  plowing  to  do,  the  six  camps  beat  all 
records.  On  the  banks  at  Camp  One  were  nine 
million  feet;  the  totals  of  all  five  amounted  to 
thirty-three  million.  About  ten  million  of  this  was 
on  French  Creek;  the  remainder  on  the  main  banks 
of  the  Ossawinamakee.  Besides  this  the  firm  up- 
river,  Sadler  &  Smith,  had  put  up  some  twelve 
million  more.  The  drive  promised  to  be  quite  an 
affair. 

About  the  fifteenth  of  April  attention  became 
strained.  Every  day  the  mounting  sun  made  heavy 
attacks  on  the  snow:  every  night  the  temperature 
dropped  below  the  freezing  point.    The  river  began 

4i3 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

to  show  more  air  holes,  occasional  open  places. 
About  the  centre  the  ice  looked  worn  and  soggy. 
Some  one  saw  a  flock  of  geese  high  in  the  air.  Then 
came  rain. 

One  morning  early,  Long  Pine  Jim  came  into  the 
men's  camp  bearing  a  huge  chunk  of  tallow.  This 
he  held  against  the  hot  stove  until  its  surface  had 
softened,  when  he  began  to  swab  liberal  quantities 
of  grease  on  his  spiked  river  shoes,  which  he  fished 
out  from  under  his  bunk. 

"  She's  comin',  boys,"  said  he. 

He  donned  a  pair  of  woolen  trousers  that  had 
been  chopped  off  at  the  knee,  thick  woolen  stockings, 
and  the  river  shoes.  Then  he  tightened  his  broad 
leather  belt  about  his  heavy  shirt,  cocked  his  little 
hat  over  his  ear,  and  walked  over  in  the  corner  to 
select  a  peavey  from  the  lot  the  blacksmith  had  just 
put  in  shape.  A  peavey  is  like  a  cant-hook  except 
that  it  is  pointed  at  the  end.  Thus  it  can  be  used 
either  as  a  hook  or  a  pike.  At  the  same  moment 
Shearer,  similarly  attired  and  equipped,  appeared  in 
the  doorway.  The  opening  of  the  portal  admitted  a 
roar  of  sound.    The  river  was  rising. 

"  Come  on,  boys,  she's  on!  "  said  he  sharply. 

Outside,  the  cook  and  cookee  were  stowing  articles 
in  the  already  loaded  wanigan.  The  scow  contained 
tents,  blankets,  provisions,  and  a  portable  stove.  It 
followed  the  drive,  and  made  a  camp  wherever  ex- 
pediency demanded. 

414 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

"  Lively,  boys,  lively !  "  shouted  Thorpe.  "  She'll 
be  down  on  us  before  we  know  it !  " 

Above  the  soft  creaking  of  dead  branches  in  the 
wind  sounded  a  steady  roar,  like  the  bellowing  of  a 
wild  beast  lashing  itself  to  fury.  The  freshet  was 
abroad,  forceful  with  the  strength  of  a  whole  win- 
ter's accumulated  energy. 

The  men  heard  it  and  their  eyes  brightened  witr 
the  lust  of  battle.    They  cheered. 


CHAPTER   FORTY-SIX 

AT  the  banks  of  the  river,  Thorpe  rapidly  issued 
his  directions.  The  affair  had  been  all  pre- 
arranged. During  the  week  previous  he  and  his 
foremen  had  reviewed  the  situation,  examining  the 
state  of  the  ice,  the  heads  of  water  in  the  three  dams. 
Immediately  above  the  first  railways  was  Dam 
Three  with  its  two  wide  sluices  through  which  a 
veritable  flood  could  be  loosened  at  will;  then  four 
miles  farther  lay  the  rollways  of  Sadler  &  Smith, 
the  up-river  firm;  and  above  them  tumbled  over  a 
forty-five  foot  ledge  the  beautiful  Siscoe  Falls ;  these 
first  rollways  of  Thorpe's  —  spread  in  the  broad 
marsh  flat  below  the  dam — contained  about  eight 
millions;  the  rest  of  the  season's  cut  was  scattered 
for  thirty  miles  along  the  bed  of  the  river. 

Already  the  ice  cementing  the  logs  together  had 
begun  to  weaken.  The  ice  had  wrenched  and  tugged 
savagely  at  the  locked  timbers  until  they  had,  with  a 
mighty  effort,  snapped  asunder  the  bonds  of  their 
hibernation.  Now  a  narrow  lane  of  black  rushing 
water  pierced  the  rollways,  to  boil  and  eddy  in  the 
consequent  jam  three  miles  below. 

To  the  foremen  Thorpe  assigned  their  tasks.,  call- 
416 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

ing  them  to  him  one  by  one,  as  a  general  calls  his 
aids. 

"  Moloney,"  said  he  to  the  big  Irishman,  "  take 
your  crew  and  break  that  jam.  Then  scatter  your 
men  down  to  within,  a  mile  of  the  pond  at  Dam 
Two,  and  see  that  the  river  runs  clear.  You  can 
tent  for  a  day  or  so  at  West  Bend  or  some  other 
point  about  half-way  down;  and  after  that  you  had 
better  camp  at  the  dam.  Just  as  soon  as  you  get 
logs  enough  in  the  pond,  start  to  sluicing  them 
through  the  dam.  You  won't  need  more  than 
four  men  there,  if  you  keep  a  good  head.  You 
can  keep  your  gates  open  five  or  six  hours.  And 
Moloney !  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  I  want  you  to  be  careful  not  to  sluice  too  long. 
There  is  a  bar  just  below  the  dam,  and  if  you  try  to 
sluice  with  the  water  too  low,  you'll  centre  and  jam 
there,  as  sure  as  shooting." 

Bryan  Moloney  turned  on  his  heel  and  began  to 
pick  his  way  down-stream  over  the  solidly  banked 
logs.  Without  waiting  the  command,  a  dozen  men 
followed  him.  The  little  group  bobbed  away  ir- 
regularly into  the  distance,  springing  lightly  from 
one  timber  to  the  other,  holding  their  quaintly  fash- 
ioned peaveys  in  the  manner  of  a  rope-dancer's  bal- 
ancing pole.  At  the  lowermost  limit  of  the  roll- 
ways  each  man  pried  a  log  into  the  water,  and, 
standing  gracefully   erect  on   this   unstable   craft, 

4i7 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

floated  out  down  the  current  to  the  scene  of  his  dan* 
gerous  labor. 

"  Kerlie,"  went  on  Thorpe,  "  your  crew  can  break 
rollways  with  the  rest  until  we  get  the  river  fairly 
filled,  and  then  you  can  move  on  down-stream  as 
fast  as  you  are  needed.  Scotty,  you  will  have  the 
rear.    Tim  and  I  will  boss  the  river." 

At  once  the  signal  was  given  to  Ellis,  the  dam 
watcher.  Ellis  and  his  assistants  thereupon  began 
to  pry  with  long  iron  bars  at  the  ratchets  of  the 
heavy  gates.  The  chore-boy  bent  attentively  over 
the  ratchet-pin,  lifting  it  delicately  to  permit  an- 
other inch  of  raise,  dropping  it  accurately  to  enable 
the  men  at  the  bars  to  seize  a  fresh  purchase.  The1 
river's  roar  deepened.  Through  the  wide  sluice- 
ways a  torrent  foamed  and  tumbled.  Immediately 
it  spread  through  the  brush  on  either  side  to  the 
limits  of  the  freshet  banks,  and  then  gathered  for  its 
leap  against  the  uneasy  rollways.  Along  the  edge 
of  the  dark  channel  the  face  of  the  logs  seemed  to 
crumble  away.  Farther  in  toward  the  banks  where 
the  weight  of  timber  still  outbalanced  the  weight  of 
the  flood,  the  tiers  grumbled  and  stirred,  restless  with 
the  stream's  calling.  Far  down  the  river,  where 
Bryan  Moloney  and  his  crew  were  picking  at  the 
jam,  the  water  in  eager  streamlets  sought  the  inter- 
stices between  the  logs,  gurgling  excitedly  like  a 
mountain  brook. 

The  jam  creaked  and  groaned  in  response  to  the 
418 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

pressure.  From  its  face  a  hundred  jets  of  water 
spurted  into  the  lower  stream.  Logs  up-ended  here 
and  there,  rising  from  the  bristling  surface  slowly, 
like  so  many  arms  from  lower  depths.  Above,  the 
water  eddied  back  foaming;  logs  shot  down  from  the 
rollways,  paused  at  the  slackwater,  and  finally  hit 
with  a  hollow  and  resounding  boom!  against  the  tail 
of  the  jam.  A  moment  later  they  too  up-ended,  so 
becoming  an  integral  part  of  the  chevaux  de  frise. 

The  crew  were  working  desperately.  Down  in 
the  heap  somewhere,  two  logs  were  crossed  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  lock  the  whole.  They  sought  those 
logs. 

Thirty  feet  above  the  bed  of  the  river  six  men 
clamped  their  peaveys  into  the  soft  pine;  jerking, 
pulling,  lifting,  sliding  the  great  logs  from  their 
places.  Thirty  feet  below,  under  the  threatening 
face,  six  other  men  coolly  picked  out  and  set  adrift, 
one  by  one,  the  timbers  not  inextricably  imbedded. 
From  time  to  time  the  mass  creaked,  settled,  perhaps 
even  moved  a  foot  or  two;  but  always  the  practised 
rivermen,  after  a  glance,  bent  more  eagerly  to  their 
work. 

Outlined  against  the  sky,  big  Bryan  Moloney 
stood  directing  the  work.  He  had  gone  at  the  job 
on  the  bias  of  indirection,  picking  out  a  passage  at 
either  side  that  the  centre  might  the  more  easily 
"  pull."  He  knew  by  the  tenseness  of  the  log  he 
stood  on  that,  behind  the  jam,  power  had  gathered 

419 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

sufficient  to  push  the  whole  tangle  down-stream. 
Now  he  was  offering  it  the  chance. 

Suddenly  the  six  men  below  the  jam  scattered. 
Four  of  them,  holding  their  peaveys  across  their 
bodies,  jumped  lightly  from  one  floating  log  to  an- 
other in  the  zigzag  to  shore.  When  they  stepped  on 
a  small  log  they  re-leaped  immediately,  leaving  a 
swirl  of  foam  where  the  little  timber  had  sunk  un- 
der them;  when  they  encountered  one  larger,  they 
hesitated  for  a  barely  perceptible  instant.  Thus 
their  progression  was  of  fascinating  and  graceful 
irregularity.  The  other  two  ran  the  length  of  their 
footing,  and,  overleaping  an  open  of  water,  landed 
heavily  and  firmly  on  the  very  ends  of  two  small 
floating  logs.  In  this  manner  the  force  of  the  jump 
rushed  the  little  timbers  end-on  through  the  water. 
The  two  men,  maintaining  marvellously  their  bal- 
ance, were  thus  ferried  to  within  leaping  distance  of 
the  other  shore. 

In  the  meantime  a  barely  perceptible  motion  was 
communicating  itself  from  one  particle  to  another 
through  the  centre  of  the  jam.  A  cool  and  ob- 
servant spectator  might  have  imagined  that  the 
broad  timber  carpet  was  changing  a  little  its  pat- 
tern, just  as  the  earth  near  the  windows  of  an 
arrested  railroad  train  seems  for  a  moment  to  retro* 
gress.  The  crew  redoubled  its  exertions,  clamping 
its  peaveys  here  and  there,  apparently  at  random, 
but  in  reality  with  the  most  definite  of  purposes.    A 

420 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

sharp  crack  exploded  immediately  underneath. 
There  could  no  longer  exist  any  doubt  as  to  the 
motion,  although  it  was  as  yet  sluggish,  glacial. 
Then  in  silence  a  log  shifted — in  silence  and  slowly 
— but  with  irresistible  force.  Jimmy  Powers  quietly 
stepped  over  it,  just  as  it  menaced  his  leg.  Other 
logs  in  all  directions  up-ended.  The  jam  crew  were 
forced  continually  to  alter  their  positions,  riding  the 
changing  timbers  bent-kneed,  as  a  circus  rider  treads 
his  four  galloping  horses. 

Then  all  at  once  down  by  the  face  something 
crashed.  The  entire  stream  became  alive.  It  hissed 
and  roared,  it  shrieked,  groaned  and  grumbled.  At 
first  slowly,  then  more  rapidly,  the  very  forefront  of 
the  centre  melted  inward  and  forward  and  down- 
ward until  it  caught  the  fierce  rush  of  the  freshet 
and  shot  out  from  under  the  jam.  Far  up-stream, 
bristling  and  formidable,  the  tons  of  logs,  grinding 
savagely  together,  swept  forward. 

The  six  men  and  Bryan  Moloney — who,  it  will 
be  remembered,  were  on  top — worked  until  the  last 
moment.  When  the  logs  began  to  cave  under  them 
so  rapidly  that  even  the  expert  rivermen  found  dif- 
ficulty in  "  staying  on  top,"  the  foreman  set  the 
example  of  hunting  safety. 

"  She  '  pulls,'  boys,"  he  yelled. 

Then  in  a  manner  wonderful  to  behold,  through 
the  smother  of  foam  and  spray,  through  the  crash 
and  yell  of  timbers  protesting  the  flood's  hurrying, 

421 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

through   the   leap  of   destruction,   the   drivers   zig- 
zagged calmly  and  surely  to  the  shore. 

All  but  Jimmy  Powers.  He  poised  tense  and 
eager  on  the  crumbling  face  of  the  jam.  Almost 
immediately  he  saw  what  he  wanted,  and  without 
pause  sprang  boldly  and  confidently  ten  feet  straight 
downward,  to  alight  with  accuracy  on  a  single  log 
floating  free  in  the  current.  And  then  in  the  very 
glory  and  chaos  of  the  jam  itself  he  was  swept 
down-stream. 

After  a  moment  the  constant  acceleration  in  speed 
checked,  then  commenced  perceptibly  to  slacken.  At 
once  the  rest  of  the  crew  began  to  ride  down-stream. 
Each  struck  the  caulks  of  his  river  boots  strongly 
into  a  log,  and  on  such  unstable  vehicles  floated 
miles  with  the  current.  From  time  to  time,  as  Bryan 
Moloney  indicated,  one  of  them  went  ashore.  There, 
usually  at  a  bend  of  the  stream  where  the  likelihood 
of  jamming  was  great,  they  took  their  stands. 
When  necessary,  they  ran  out  over  the  face  of  the 
river  to  separate  a  congestion  likely  to  cause  trouble. 
The  rest  of  the  time  they  smoked  their  pipes. 

At  noon  they  ate  from  little  canvas  bags  which 
had  been  filled  that  morning  by  the  cookee.  At  sun- 
set they  rode  other  logs  down  the  river  to  where 
their  camp  had  been  made  for  them.  There  they  ate 
hugely,  hung  their  ice-wet  garments  over  a  tall 
framework  constructed  around  a  monster  fire,  and 
turned  in  on  hemlock  branches. 

422 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

All  night  long  the  logs  slipped  down  the  moonlit 
current,  silently,  swiftly,  yet  without  haste.  The 
porcupines  invaded  the  sleeping  camp.  From  the 
whole  length  of  the  river  rang  the  hollow  boom, 
boom,  boom,  of  timbers  striking  one  against  the 
other. 

The  drive  was  on. 


4^3 


CHAPTER    FORTY-SEVEN 

IN  the  meantime  the  main  body  of  the  crew  under 
Thorpe  and  his  foremen  were  briskly  tumbling 
the  logs  into  the  current.  Sometimes  under  the 
urging  of  the  peaveys,  but  a  single  stick  would  slide 
down;  or  again  a  double  tier  would  cascade  with 
the  roar  of  a  little  Niagara.  The  men  had  con- 
tinually to  keep  on  the  tension  of  an  alert,  for  at 
any  moment  they  were  called  upon  to  exercise  the^r 
best  judgment  and  quickness  to  keep  from  being  car- 
ried downward  with  the  rush  of  the  logs.  Not  in- 
frequently a  frowning  sheer  wall  of  forty  feet  would 
hesitate  on  the  brink  of  plunge.  Then  Shearer  him- 
self proved  his  right  to  the  title  of  riverman. 

Shearer  wore  caulks  nearly  an  inch  in  length. 
He  had  been  known  to  ride  ten  miles,  without  shift- 
ing his  feet,  on  a  log  so  small  that  he  could  carry  it 
without  difficulty.  For  cool  nerve  he  was  unex- 
celled. 

"  I  don't  need  you  boys  here  any  longer,"  he  said 
quietly. 

When  the  men  had  all  withdrawn,  he  walked 
confidently  under  the  front  of  the  rollway,  glancing 
with  practised  eye  at  the  perpendicular  wall  of  logs 

424 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

over  him.  Then,  as  a  man  pries  jack-straws,  he 
clamped  his  peavey  and  tugged  sharply.  At  once 
the  rollway  flattened  and  toppled.  A  mighty  splash, 
a  hurl  of  flying  foam  and  crushing  timbers,  and  the 
spot  on  which  the  riverman  had  stood  was  buried 
beneath  twenty  feet  of  solid  green  wood.  To 
Thorpe  it  seemed  that  Shearer  must  have  been  over- 
whelmed, but  the  riverman  always  mysteriously  ap- 
peared at  one  side  or  the  other,  nonchalant,  urging 
the  men  to  work  before  the  logs  should  have  ceased 
to  move.  Tradition  claimed  that  only  once  in  a 
long  woods  life  had  Shearer  been  forced  to  "  take 
water"  before  a  breaking  rollway:  and  then  he 
saved  his  peavey.  History  stated  that  he  had  never 
lost  a  man  on  the  river,  simply  and  solely  because 
he  invariably  took  the  dangerous  tasks  upon  himself. 

As  soon  as  the  logs  had  caught  the  current,  a 
dozen  men  urged  them  on.  With  their  short 
peaveys,  the  drivers  were  enabled  to  prevent  the  tim- 
bers from  swirling  in  the  eddies — one  of  the  first 
causes  of  a  jam.  At  last,  near  the  foot  of  the  flats, 
they  abandoned  them  to  the  stream,  confident  that 
Moloney  and  his  crew  would  see  to  their  passage 
down  the  river. 

In  three  days  the  rollways  were  broken.  Now  it 
became  necessary  to  start  the  rear. 

For  this  purpose  Billy  Camp,  the  cook,  had  loaded 
his  cook-stove,  a  quantity  of  provisions,  and  a  supply 
of  bedding,  aboard  a  scow.    The  scow  was  built  of 

425 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

tremendous  hewn  timbers,  four  or  five  inches  thick, 
to  withstand  the  shock  of  the  logs.  At  either  end 
were  long  sweeps  to  direct  its  course.  The  craft  was 
perhaps  forty  feet  long,  but  rather  narrow,  in  order 
that  it  might  pass  easily  through  the  chute  of  a  dam. 
It  was  called  the  "  wanigan." 

Billy  Camp,  his  cookee,  and  his  crew  of  two  were 
now  doomed  to  tribulation.  The  huge,  unwieldy 
craft  from  that  moment  was  to  become  possessed  of 
the  devil.  Down  the  white  water  of  rapids  it  would 
bump,  smashing  obstinately  against  boulders,  im- 
pervious to  the  frantic  urging  of  the  long  sweeps; 
against  the  roots  and  branches  of  the  stream  side  it 
would  scrape  with  the  perverseness  of  a  vicious 
horse;  in  the  broad  reaches  it  would  sulk,  refusing 
to  proceed;  and  when  expediency  demanded  its 
pause,  it  would  drag  Billy  Camp  and  his  entire  crew 
at  the  rope's  end,  while  they  tried  vainly  to  snub  it 
against  successively  uprooted  trees  and  stumps. 
When  at  last  the  wanigan  was  moored  fast  for  the 
night — usually  a  mile  or  so  below  the  spot  planned 
— Billy  Camp  pushed  back  his  battered  old  brown 
derby  hat,  the  badge  of  his  office,  with  a  sigh  of 
relief.  To  be  sure  he  and  his  men  had  still  to  cu* 
wood,  construct  cooking  and  camp  fires,  pitch  tents, 
snip  browse,  and  prepare  supper  for  seventy  men; 
but  the  hard  work  of  the  day  was  over.  Billy  Camp 
did  not  mind  rain  or  cold — he  would  cheerfully  cook 
away  with  the  water  dripping  from  his  battered 

436 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

derby  to  his  chubby  and  cold-purpled  nose — but  he 
did  mind  the  wanigan.  And  the  worst  of  it  was,  he 
got  no  sympathy  nor  aid  from  the  crew.  From  either 
bank  he  and  his  anxious  struggling  assistants  were 
greeted  with  ironic  cheers  and  facetious  remarks. 
The  tribulations  of  the  wanigan  were  as  the  salt  of 
life  to  the  spectators. 

Billy  Camp  tried  to  keep  back  of  the  rear  in  clear 
water,  but  when  the  wanigan  so  disposed,  he  found 
himself  jammed  close  in  the  logs.  There  he  had  a 
chance  in  his  turn  to  become  spectator,  and  so  to 
repay  in  kind  some  of  the  irony  and  facetiousness. 

Along  either  bank,  among  the  bushes,  on  sand- 
bars, and  in  trees,  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  logs 
had  been  stranded  when  the  main  drive  passed. 
These  logs  the  rear  crew  were  engaged  in  restoring 
to  the  current. 

And  as  a  man  had  to  be  able  to  ride  any  kind  of  a 
log  in  any  water;  to  propel  that  log  by  jumping  on 
it,  by  rolling  it  squirrel  fashion  with  the  feet,  by 
punting  it  as  one  would  a  canoe;  to  be  skillful  in 
pushing,  prying,  and  poling  other  logs  from  the 
quarter  deck  of  the  same  cranky  craft;  as  he  must 
be  prepared  at  any  and  all  times  to  jump  waist  deep 
into  the  river,  to  work  in  ice-water  hours  at  a  stretch ; 
as  he  was  called  upon  to  break  the  most  dangerous 
jams  on  the  river,  representing,  as  they  did,  the  ac- 
cumulation which  the  jam  crew  had  left  behind 
them,  it  was  naturally  considered  the  height  of  glory 

427 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

to  belong  to  the  rear  crew.  Here  were  the  best  of 
the  Fighting  Forty — men  with  a  reputation  as 
"  white-water  birlers  " — men  afraid  of  nothing. 

Every  morning  the  crews  were  divided  into  two 
sections  under  Kerlie  and  Jack  Hyland.  Each  crew 
had  charge  of  one  side  of  the  river,  with  the  task  of 
cleaning  it  thoroughly  of  all  stranded  and  entangled 
logs.  Scotty  Parsons  exercised  a  general  supervisory 
eye  over  both  crews.  Shearer  and  Thorpe  travelled 
back  and  forth  the  length  of  the  drive,  riding  the 
logs  down-stream,  but  taking  to  a  partly  submerged 
pole  trail  when  ascending  the  current.  On  the  sur- 
face of  the  river  in  the  clear  water  floated  two  long 
graceful  boats  called  bateaux.  These  were  in  charge 
of  expert  boatmen— men  able  to  propel  their  craft 
swiftly  forward,  backward  and  sideways,  through 
all  kinds  of  water.  They  carried  in  racks  a  great 
supply  of  pike-poles,  peaveys,  axes,  rope  and  dyna- 
mite, for  use  in  various  emergencies.  Intense  rivalry 
existed  as  to  which  crew  "  sacked "  the  farthest 
down-stream  in  the  course  of  the  day.  There  was 
no  need  to  urge  the  men.  Some  stood  upon  the  logs, 
pushing  mightily  with  the  long  pikerpoles.  Others, 
waist  deep  in  the  water,  clamped  the  jaws  of  their 
peaveys  into  the  stubborn  timbers,  and,  shoulder 
bent,  slid  them  slowly  but  surely  into  the  swifter 
waters.  Still  others,  lining  up  on  either  side  of  one 
of  the  great  brown  tree  trunks,  carried  it  bodily  to 
its  appointed  place.     From  one  end  of  the  rear  to 

428 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

the  other  shouts,  calls,  warnings,  and  jokes  flew 
back  and  forth.  Once  or  twice  a  vast  roar  of 
Homeric  laughter  went  up  as  some  unfortunate 
slipped  and  soused  into  the  water.  When  the  cur- 
rent slacked,  and  the  logs  hesitated  in  their  run,  the 
entire  crew  hastened,  bobbing  from  log  to  log,  down- 
river to  see  about  it.  Then  they  broke  the  jam, 
standing  surely  on  the  edge  of  the  great  darkness, 
while  the  ice  water  sucked  in  and  out  of  their  shoes. 

Behind  the  rear  Big  Junko  poled  his  bateau  back- 
ward and  forward  exploding  dynamite.  Many  of 
the  bottom  tiers  of  logs  in  the  rollways  had  been 
frozen  down,  and  Big  Junko  had  to  loosen  them 
from  the  bed  of  the  stream.  He  was  a  big  man, 
this,  as  his  nickname  indicated,  built  of  many  awk- 
wardnesses. His  cheekbones  were  high,  his  nose  flat, 
his  lips  thick  and  slobbery.  He  sported  a  wide, 
ferocious  straggling  mustache  and  long  eyebrows, 
under  which  gleamed  little  fierce  eyes.  His  fore- 
head sloped  back  like  a  beast's,  but  was  always  hid- 
den by  a  disreputable  felt  hat.  Big  Junko  did  not 
know  much,  and  had  the  passions  of  a  wild  ani- 
mal, but  he  was  a  reckless  riverman  and  devoted  to 
Thorpe.    Just  now  he  exploded  dynamite. 

The  sticks  of  powder  were  piled  amidships.  Big 
Junko  crouched  over  them,  inserting  the  fuses  and 
caps,  closing  the  openings  with  soap,  finally  lighting 
them,  and  dropping  them  into  the  water  alongside, 
where  they  immediately  sank.     Then  a  few  strokes 

429 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

of  a  short  paddle  took  him  barely  out  of  danger. 
He  huddled  down  in  his  craft,  waiting.  One,  two, 
three  seconds  passed.  Then  a  hollow  boom  shook 
the  stream.  A  cloud  of  water  sprang  up,  strangely 
beautiful.  After  a  moment  the  great  brown  logs 
rose  suddenly  to  the  surface  from  below,  one  after 
the  other,  like  leviathans  of  the  deep.  And  Junko 
watched,  dimly  fascinated,  in  his  rudimentary  ani- 
mal's brain,  by  the  sight  of  the  power  he  had  evoked 
to  his  aid. 

When  night  came  the  men  rode  down-stream  to 
where  the  wanigan  had  made  camp.  There  they 
slept,  often  in  blankets  wetted  by  the  wanigan's  ec» 
centricities,  to  leap  to  their  feet  at  the  first  cry  in 
early  morning.  Some  days  it  rained,  in  which  case 
they  were  wet  all  the  time.  Almost  invariably  there 
was  a  jam  to  break,  though  strangely  enough  almost 
every  one  of  the  old-timers  believed  implicitly  that 
"  in  the  full  of  the  moon  logs  will  run  free  at 
night." 

Thorpe  and  Tim  Shearer  nearly  always  slept  in  a 
dog  tent  at  the  rear;  though  occasionally  they  passed 
the  night  at  Dam  Two,  where  Bryan  Moloney  and 
his  crew  were  already  engaged  in  sluicing  the  logc 
through  the  chute. 

The  affair  was  simple  enough.  Long  booms  ar- 
ranged in  the  form  of  an  open  V  guided  the  drive  to 
the  sluice  gate,  through  which  a  smooth  apron  of 
water  rushed  to  turmoil  in  an  eddying  pool  below. 

430 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

Two  men  tramped  steadily  backward  and  forward 
on  the  booms,  urging  the  logs  forward  by  means  of 
long  pike  poles  to  where  the  suction  could  seize 
them.  Below  the  dam,  the  push  of  the  sluice  water 
forced  them  several  miles  down-stream,  where  the 
rest  of  Bryan  Moloney's  crew  took  them  in  charge. 

Thus  through  the  wide  gate  nearly  three-quarters 
of  a  million  feet  an  hour  could  be  run — a  quantity 
more  than  sufficient  to  keep  pace  with  the  exertions 
of  the  rear.  The  matter  was,  of  course,  more  or  less 
delayed  by  the  necessity  of  breaking  out  such  roll- 
ways  as  they  encountered  from  time  to  time  on  the 
banks.  At  length,  however,  the  last  of  the  logs 
drifted  into  the  wide  dam  pool.  The  rear  had  ar- 
rived at  Dam  Two,  and  Thorpe  congratulated  him- 
self that  one  stage  of  his  journey  had  been  com- 
pleted. Billy  Camp  began  to  worry  about  shooting 
the  wanigan  through  the  sluiceway. 


4S* 


CHAPTER    FORTY-EIGHT 

THE  rear  had  been  tenting  at  the  dam  for  two 
days,  and  was  about  ready  to  break  camp, 
when  Jimmy  Powers  swung  across  the  trail  to  tell 
them  of  the  big  jam. 

Ten  miles  along  the  river  bed  the  stream  dropped 
over  a  little  half-falls  into  a  narrow,  rocky  gorge.  It 
was  always  an  anxious  spot  for  the  river  drivers. 
In  fact,  the  plunging  of  the  logs  head-on  over  the 
fall  had  so  gouged  out  the  soft  rock  below  that  an 
eddy  of  great  power  had  formed  in  the  basin. 
Shearer  and  Thorpe  had  often  discussed  the  advisa- 
bility of  constructing  an  artificial  apron  of  logs  to 
receive  the  impact.  Here,  in  spite  of  all  efforts,  the 
jam  had  formed — first  a  little  centre  of  a  few  logs 
in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  dividing  the  current, 
and  shunting  the  logs  to  right  and  left;  then 
"  wings  "  growing  out  from  either  bank,  built  up 
from  logs  shunted  too  violently;  finally  a  complete 
stoppage  of  the  channel,  and  the  consequent  rapid 
piling  up  as  the  pressure  of  the  drive  increased. 
Now  the  bed  was  completely  filled,  far  above  the 
level  of  the  falls,  by  a  tangle  that  defied  the  jam 
crew's  best  efforts. 

The  rear  at  once  took  the  trail  down  the  river. 
432 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

Thorpe  and  Shearer  and  Scotty  Parsons  looked  over 
the  ground. 

"  She  may  '  pull,'  if  she  gets  a  good  start,"  de- 
cided Tim. 

Without  delay  the  entire  crew  was  set  to  work. 
Nearly  a  hundred  men  can  pick  a  great  many  logs 
in  the  course  of  a  day.  Several  times  the  jam 
started,  but  always  "  plugged  "  before  the  motion 
had  become  irresistible.  This  was  mainly  because 
the  rocky  walls  narrowed  at  a  slight  bend  to  the  west, 
so  that  the  drive  was  throttled,  as  it  were.  It  was 
hoped  that  perhaps  the  middle  of  the  jam  might 
burst  through  here,  leaving  the  wings  stranded.  The 
hop/,  was  groundless. 

"  We'll  have  to  shoot,"  Shearer  reluctantly  de- 
cided. 

The  men  were  withdrawn.  Scotty  Parsons  cut  a 
sapling  twelve  feet  long,  and  trimmed  it.  Big 
Junko  thawed  his  dynamite  at  a  little  fire,  opening 
the  ends  of  the  packages  in  order  that  the  steam 
generated  might  escape.  Otherwise  the  pressure  in- 
side the  oiled  paper  of  the  package  was  capable  of 
exploding  the  whole  affair.  When  the  powder  was 
warm,  Scotty  bound  twenty  of  the  cartridges  around 
the  end  of  the  sapling,  adjusted  a  fuse  in  one  of 
them,  and  soaped  the  opening  to  exclude  water. 
Then  Big  Junko  thrust  the  long  javelin  down  into 
the  depths  of  the  jam,  leaving  a  thin  stream  of 
smoke  behind  him  as  he  turned  away.    With  sinis- 

433 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

ter,  evil  eye  he  watched  the  smoke  for  an  instant, 
then  zigzagged  awkwardly  over  the  jam,  the  long, 
ridiculous  tails  of  his  brown  cutaway  coat  flopping 
behind  him  as  he  leaped.  A  scant  moment  later  the 
hoarse  dynamite  shouted. 

Great  chunks  of  timber  shot  to  an  inconceivable 
height;  entire  logs  lifted  bodily  into  the  air  with  the 
motion  of  a  fish  jumping;  a  fountain  of  water 
gleamed  against  the  sun  and  showered  down  in  fine 
rain.  The  jam  shrugged  and  settled.  That  was  all ; 
the  "  shot  "  had  failed. 

The  men  ran  forward,  examining  curiously  the 
great  hole  in  the  log  formation. 

"  We'll  have  to  flood  her,"  said  Thorpe. 

So  all  the  gates  of  the  dam  were  raised,  and  the 
torrent  tried  its  hand.  It  had  no  effect.  Evidently 
the  affair  was  not  one  of  violence,  but  of  patience. 
The  crew  went  doggedly  to  work. 

Day  after  day  the  clank,  clank,  clink  of  the 
peaveys  sounded  with  the  regularity  of  machinery. 
The  only  practicable  method  was  to  pick  away  the 
flank  logs,  leaving  a  long  tongue  pointing  down- 
stream from  the  centre  to  start  when  it  would.  This 
happened  time  and  again,  but  always  failed  to  take 
with  it  the  main  jam.  It  was  cruel  hard  work;  a 
man  who  has  lifted  his  utmost  strength  into  a  peavey 
knows  that.  Any  but  the  Fighting  Forty  would 
have  grumbled. 

Collins,  the  bookkeeper,  came  up  to  view  the 
434 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

tangle.  Later  a  photographer  from  Marquette  took 
some  views,  which,  being  exhibited,  attracted  a  great 
deal  of  attention,  so  that  by  the  end  of  the  week  a 
number  of  curiosity  seekers  were  driving  over  every 
day  to  see  the  Big  Jam.  A  certain  Chicago  jour- 
nalist in  search  of  balsam  health  of  lungs  even  sent 
to  his  paper  a  little  item.  This,  unexpectedly, 
brought  Wallace  Carpenter  to  the  spot.  Although 
reassured  as  to  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  he  re- 
mained to  see. 

The  place  was  an  amphitheatre  for  such  as  chose 
to  be  spectators.  They  could  stand  or  sit  on  the 
summit  of  the  gorge  cliffs,  overlooking  the  river,  the 
fall,  and  the  jam.  As  the  cliff  was  barely  sixty  feet 
high,  the  view  lacked  nothing  in  clearness. 

At  last  Shearer  became  angry. 

"  We've  been  monkeying  long  enough,"  said  he. 
"  Next  time  we'll  leave  a  centre  that  will  go  out. 
We'll  shut  the  dams  down  tight  and  dry-pick  out 
two  wings  that'll  start  her." 

The  dams  were  first  run  at  full  speed,  and  then 
shut  down.  Hardly  a  drop  of  water  flowed  in  the 
bed  of  the  stream.  The  crews  set  laboriously  to 
work  to  pull  and  roll  the  logs  out  in  such  flat  fashion 
that  a  head  of  water  should  send  them  out. 

This  was  even  harder  work  than  the  other,  for 
they  had  not  the  floating  power  of  water  to  help 
them  in  the  lifting.  As  usual,  part  of  the  men 
worked  below,  part  above. 

435 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Jimmy  Powers,  curly-haired,  laughing-faced,  was 
irrepressible.  He  badgered  the  others  until  they 
threw  bark  at  him  and  menaced  him  with  their 
peaveys.  Always  he  had  at  his  tongue's  end  the 
proper  quip  for  the  occasion,  so  that  in  the  long  run 
the  work  was  lightened  by  him.  When  the  men 
stopped  to  think  at  all,  they  thought  of  Jimmy 
Powers  with  very  kindly  hearts,  for  it  was  known 
that  he  had  had  more  trouble  than  most,  and  that 
the  coin  was  not  made  too  small  for  him  to  divide 
with  a  needy  comrade.  To  those  who  had  seen  his 
mask  of  whole-souled  good-nature  fade  into  serious 
sympathy,  Jimmy  Powers's  poor  little  jokes  were 
very  funny  indeed. 

"Did  'je  see  th'  Swede  at  the  circus  las'  sum- 
mer? "  he  would  howl  to  Red  Jacket  on  the  top  tier. 

"  No,"  Red  Jacket  would  answer,  "  was  he 
there?" 

"  Yes,"  Jimmy  Powers  would  reply;  then,  after  a 
pause — "  in  a  cage !  " 

It  was  a  poor  enough  jest,  yet  if  you  had  beetx 
there,  you  would  have  found  that  somehow  the  log 
had  in  the  meantime  leaped  of  its  own  accord  from 
that  difficult  position. 

Thorpe  approved  thoroughly  of  Jimmy  Powers; 
he  thought  him  a  good  influence.  He  told  Wallace 
so,  standing  among  the  spectators  on  the  cliff-top. 

"  He  is  all  right,"  said  Thorpe.  "  I  wish  I  had 
more  like  him.    The  others  are  good  boys,  too." 

436 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

Five  men  were  at  the  moment  tugging  futilely  at 
a  reluctant  timber.  They  were  attempting  to  roll 
one  end  of  it  over  the  side  of  another  projecting  log, 
but  were  continually  foiled,  because  the  other  end 
was  jammed  fast.  Each  bent  his  knees,  inserting  his 
shoulder  under  the  projecting  peavey  stock,  to 
straighten  in  a  mighty  effort. 

"  Hire  a  boy!  "  "  Get  some  powder  of  Junko!  " 
"  Have  Jimmy  talk  it  out !  "  "  Try  that  little  one 
over  by  the  corner,"  called  the  men  on  top  of  the 
jam. 

Everybody  laughed,  of  course.  It  was  a  fine 
spring  day,  clear-eyed  and  crisp,  with  a  hint  of  new 
foliage  in  the  thick  buds  of  the  trees.  The  air  was 
so  pellucid  that  one  distinguished  without  difficulty 
the  straight  entrance  to  the  gorge  a  mile  away,  and 
even  the  West  Bend,  fully  five  miles  distant. 

Jimmy  Powers  took  off  his  cap  and  wiped  his 
forehead. 

"  You  boys,"  he  remarked  politely,  "  think  you 
are  boring  with  a  mighty  big  auger." 

"  My  God !  "  screamed  one  of  the  spectators  on 
top  of  the  cliff. 

At  the  same  instant  Wallace  Carpenter  seized  his 
friend's  arm  and  pointed. 

Down  the  bed  of  the  stream  from  the  upper  bend 
rushed  a  solid  wall  of  water  several  feet  high.  It 
flung  itself  forward  with  the  headlong  impetus  of  a 
cascade.     Even  in  the  short  interval  between  the 

437 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

visitor's  exclamation  and  Carpenter's  rapid  gesture, 
it  had  loomed  into  sight,  twisted  a  dozen  trees  from 
the  river  bank,  and  foamed  into  the  entrance  of  the 
gorge.  An  instant  later  it  collided  with  the  tail  of 
the  jam. 

Even  in  the  railroad  rush  of  those  few  moments 
several  things  happened.  Thorpe  leaped  for  a  rope. 
The  crew  working  on  top  of  the  jam  ducked  in- 
stinctively to  right  and  left  and  began  to  scramble 
toward  safety.  The  men  below,  at  first  bewildered 
and  not  comprehending,  finally  understood,  and  ran 
toward  the  face  of  the  jam  with  the  intention  of 
clambering  up  it.  There  could  be  no  escape  in 
the  narrow  canon  below,  the  walls  of  which  rose 
sheer. 

Then  the  flood  hit  square.  It  was  the  impact  of 
irresistible  power.  A  great  sheet  of  water  rose  like 
surf  from  the  tail  of  the  jam;  a  mighty  cataract 
poured  down  over  its  surface,  lifting  the  free  logs; 
from  either  wing  timbers  crunched,  split,  rose  sud- 
denly into  wracked  prominence,  twisted  beyond  the 
semblance  of  themselves.  Here  and  there  single  logs 
were  even  projected  bodily  upward,  as  an  apple 
seed  is  shot  from  between  the  thumb  and  forefinger. 
Then  the  jam  moved. 

Scotty  Parsons,  Jack  Hyland,  Red  Jacket,  and 
the  forty  or  fifty  topmen  had  reached  the  shore.  By 
the  wriggling  activity  which  is  a  riverman's  alone, 
they  succeeded  in  pulling  themselves  beyond   the 

438 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

snap  of  death's  jaws.  It  was  a  narrow  thing  for 
most  of  them,  and  a  miracle  for  some. 

Jimmy  Powers,  Archie  Harris,  Long  Pine  Jim, 
Big  Nolan,  and  Mike  Moloney,  the  brother  of 
Bryan,  were  in  worse  case.  They  were,  as  has  been 
said,  engaged  in  "  flattening  "  part  of  the  jam  about 
eight  or  ten  rods  below  the  face  of  it.  When  they 
finally  understood  that  the  affair  was  one  of  escape, 
they  ran  toward  the  jam,  hoping  to  climb  out.  Then 
the  crash  came.  They  heard  the  roar  of  the  waters, 
the  wrecking  of  the  timbers,  they  saw  the  logs  bulge 
outward  in  anticipation  of  the  break.  Immediately 
they  turned  and  fled,  they  knew  not  where. 

All  but  Jimmy  Powers.  He  stopped  short  in  his 
tracks,  and  threw  his  battered  old  felt  hat  defiantly 
full  into  the  face  of  the  destruction  hanging  over 
him.  Then,  his  bright  hair  blowing  in  the  wind  of 
death,  he  turned  to  the  spectators  standing  helpless 
and  paralyzed,  forty  feet  above  him. 

It  was  an  instant's  impression — the  arrested  mo- 
tion seen  in  the  flash  of  lightning — and  yet  to  the 
onlookers  it  had  somehow  the  quality  of  time.  For 
perceptible  duration  it  seemed  to  them  they  stared 
at  the  contrast  between  the  raging  hell  above  and 
the  yet  peaceable  river  bed  below.  They  were  des- 
tined to  remember  that  picture  the  rest  of  their  nat- 
ural lives,  in  such  detail  that  each  one  of  them  could 
almost  have  reproduced  it  photographically  by  sim- 
ply closing  his  eyes.     Yet  afterward,   when  they 

439 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

attempted  to  recall  definitely  the  impression,  they 
knew  it  could  have  lasted  but  a  fraction  of  a  second, 
for  the  reason  that,  clear  and  distinct  in  each  man's 
mind,  the  images  of  the  fleeing  men  retained  definite 
attitudes.  It  was  the  instantaneous  photography  of 
events. 

"  So  long,  boys,"  they  heard  Jimmy  Powers's 
voice.  Then  the  rope  Thorpe  had  thrown  fell  across 
a  caldron  of  tortured  waters  and  of  tossing  logs. 


440 


CHAPTER    FORTY-NINE 

DURING  perhaps  ten  seconds  the  survivors 
watched  the  end  of  Thorpe's  rope  trailing  in 
the  flood.  Then  the  young  man  with  a  deep  sigh 
began  to  pull  it  toward  him. 

At  once  a  hundred  surmises,  questions,  ejacula- 
tions broke  out. 

"What  happened?  "  cried  Wallace  Carpenter. 

"What  was  that  man's  name?"  asked  the  Chi- 
cago journalist  with  the  eager  instinct  of  his  pro- 
fession. 

"This  is  terrible,  terrible,  terrible!"  a  white- 
haired  physician  from  Marquette  kept  repeating  over 
and  over. 

A  half  dozen  ran  toward  the  point  of  the  cliff  to 
peer  down-stream,  as  though  they  could  hope  to  dis- 
tinguish anything  in  that  waste  of  flood  water. 

"  The  dam's  gone  out,"  replied  Thorpe.  "  I  don't 
understand  it.  Everything  was  in  good  shape,  as 
far  as  I  could  see.  It  didn't  act  like  an  ordinary 
break.  The  water  came  too  fast.  Why,  it  was  as 
dry  as  a  bone  until  just  as  that  wave  came  along. 
An  ordinary  break  would  have  eaten  through  little 
by  little  before  it  burst,  and  Davis  should  have  been 

441 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

able  to  stop  it.  This  came  all  at  once,  as  if  the  dam 
had  disappeared.     I  don't  see." 

His  mind  of  the  professional  had  already  begun 
to  query  causes. 

"  How  about  the  men?  "  asked  Wallace.  "  Isn't 
there  something  I  can  do*?" 

"  You  can  head  a  hunt  down  the  river,"  an- 
swered Thorpe.  "  I  think  it  is  useless  until  the 
water  goes  down.  Poor  Jimmy!  He  was  one  of 
the  best  men  I  had.  I  wouldn't  have  had  this 
happen " 

The  horror  of  the  scene  was  at  last  beginning  to 
filter  through  numbness  into  Wallace  Carpenter's 
impressionable  imagination. 

"No,  no!"  he  cried  vehemently.  "There  is 
something  criminal  about  it  to  me !  I'd  rather  lose 
every  log  in  the  river !  " 

Thorpe  looked  at  him  curiously.  "It  is  one  of 
the  chances  of  war,"  said  he,  unable  to  refrain  from 
the  utterance  of  his  creed.     "  We  all  know  it." 

"  I'd  better  divide  the  crew  and  take  in  both 
banks  of  the  river,"  suggested  Wallace  in  his  con- 
stitutional necessity  of  doing  something. 

"  See  if  you  can't  get  volunteers  from  this  crowd," 
suggested  Thorpe.  "  I  can  let  you  have  two  men  to 
show  you  trails.  If  you  can  make  it  that  way,  it 
will  help  me  out.  I  need  as  many  of  the  crew  as 
possible  to  use  this  flood  water." 

"  O  Harry !  "  cried  Carpenter,  shocked.  **  You 
442 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

can't  be  going  to  work  again  to-day  after  that  hor- 
rible sight,  before  we  have  made  the  slightest  effort 
to  recover  the  bodies !  " 

"  If  the  bodies  can  be  recovered,  they  shall  be," 
replied  Thorpe  quietly.  "  But  the  drive  will  not 
wait.  We  have  no  dams  to  depend  on  now,  you 
must  remember,  and  we  shall  have  to  get  out  on 
freshet  water." 

"  Your  men  won't  work.  I'd  refuse  just  as  they 
will !  "  cried  Carpenter,  his  sensibilities  still  suffer- 
ing. 

Thorpe  smiled  proudly.  "  You  do  not  know 
them.  They  are  mine.  I  hold  them  in  the  hollow 
of  my  hand! " 

"  By  Jove !  "  cried  the  journalist  in  sudden  en- 
thus'asm.     "  By  Jove!  that  is  magnificent!  " 

The  men  of  the  river  crew  had  crouched  on  their 
narrow  footholds  while  the  jam  went  out.  Each 
had  clung  to  his  peavey,  as  is  the  habit  of  rivermen. 
Down  the  current  past  their  feet  swept  the  debris 
of  flood.  Soon  logs  began  to  swirl  by — at  first  few, 
then  many — from  the  remaining  rollways  which  the 
river  had  automatically  broken.  In  a  little  time  the 
eddy  caught  up  some  of  these  logs,  and  immediately 
the  inception  of  another  jam  threatened.  The  river- 
men,  without  hesitation,  as  calmly  as  though  catas- 
trophe had  not  thrown  the  weight  of  its  moral  terror 
against  their  stoicism,  sprang,  peavey  in  hand,  to  the 
insistent  work. 

443 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  By  Jove!  "  said  the  journalist  again.  "  That  is 
magnificent !  They  are  working  over  the  spot  where 
their  comrades  died!  " 

Thorpe's  face  lit  with  gratification.  He  turned  to 
the  young  man. 

"  You  see,"  he  said  in  proud  simplicity. 

With  the  added  danger  of  freshet  water,  the  work 
went  on. 

At  this  moment  Tim  Shearer  approached  from 
inland,  his  clothes  dripping  wet,  but  his  face  retain- 
ing its  habitual  expression  of  iron  calmness.  "  Any- 
body caught*?  "  was  his  first  question  as  he  drew 
near. 

"  Five  men  under  the  face,"  replied  Thorpe 
briefly. 

Shearer  cast  a  glance  at  the  river.  He  needed  to 
be  told  no  more. 

"  I  was  afraid  of  it,"  said  he.  "  The  rollways 
must  be  all  broken  out.  It's  saved  us  that  much, 
but  the  freshet  water  won't  last  long.  It's  going  to 
be  a  close  squeak  to  get  'em  out  now.  Don't  exactly 
figure  on  what  struck  the  dam.  Thought  first  I'd  go 
right  up  that  way,  but  then  I  came  down  to  see 
about  the  boys." 

Carpenter  could  not  understand  this  apparent  cal- 
lousness on  the  part  of  men  in  whom  he  had  always 
thought  to  recognize  a  fund  of  rough  but  genuine 
feeling.  To  him  the  sacredness  of  death  was  in- 
compatible with  the  insistence  of  work.     To  these 

444 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

others  the  two,  of  grim  necessity,  went  hand  in 
hand. 

"  Where  were  you?  "  asked  Thorpe  of  Shearer. 

"  On  the  pole  trail.    I  got  in  a  little,  as  you  see." 

In  reality  the  foreman  had  had  a  close  call  for  his 
life.  A  toughly-rooted  basswood  alone  had  saved 
him. 

"  We'd  better  go  up  and  take  a  look,"  he  sug- 
gested.    "  Th'  boys  has  things  going  here  all  right." 

The  two  men  turned  toward  the  brush. 

"  Hi,  Tim,"  called  a  voice  behind  him. 

Red  Jacket  appeared  clambering  up  the  cliff. 

"  Jack  told  me  to  give  this  to  you,"  he  panted, 
holding  out  a  chunk  of  strangely  twisted  wood. 

"  Where'  d  he  get  this*?"  inquired  Thorpe, 
quickly.  "  It's  a  piece  of  the  dam,"  he  explained  to 
Wallace,  who  had  drawn  near. 

"  Picked  it  out  of  the  current,"  replied  the  man. 

The  foreman  and  his  boss  bent  eagerly  over  the 
morsel.  Then  they  stared  with  solemnity  into  each 
other's  eyes. 

"  Dynamite,  by  God !  "  exclaimed  Shearer. 


445 


CHAPTER    FIFTY 

FOR  a  moment  the  three  men  stared  at  each 
other  without  speaking. 

"What  does  it  mean4?"  almost  whispered  Car- 
penter. 

"  Mean?  Foul  play!  "  snarled  Thorpe.  "  Come 
on,  Tim." 

The  two  struck  into  the  brush,  threading  the  paths 
with  the  ease  of  woodsmen.  It  was  necessary  to 
keep  to  the  high  inland  ridges  for  the  simple  reason 
that  the  pole  trail  had  by  now  become  impassable. 
Wallace  Carpenter,  attempting  to  follow  them,  ran, 
stumbled,  and  fell  through  brush  that  continually 
whipped  his  face  and  garments,  continually  tripped 
his  feet.  All  he  could  obtain  was  a  vanishing 
glimpse  of  his  companions'  backs.  Thorpe  and  his 
foreman  talked  briefly. 

"  It's  Morrison  and  Daly,"  surmised  Shearer.  "  I 
left  them  'count  of  a  trick  like  that.  They  wanted 
me  to  take  charge  of  Perkinson's  drive  and  hang  her 
a  purpose.  I  been  suspecting  something — they've 
been  layin'  too  low." 

Thorpe  answered  nothing.  Through  the  site  of 
the  old  dam  they  found  a  torrent  pouring  from  the 

446 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

narrowed  pond,  at  the  end  of  which  the  dilapidated 
wings  flapping  in  the  current  attested  the  former 
structure.     Davis  stood  staring  at  the  current. 

Thorpe  strode  forward  and  shook  him  violently 
by  the  shoulder. 

"  How  did  this  happen?  "  he  demanded  hoarsely. 
"Speak!" 

The  man  turned  to  him  in  a  daze.  "  I  don't 
know,"  he  answered. 

"  You  ought  to  know.  How  was  that  '  shot  ■  ex- 
ploded*? How  did  they  get  in  here  without  you 
seeing  them'?    Answer  me!" 

"  I  don't  know,"  repeated  the  man.  "  I  jest  went 
over  in  th'  bresh  to  kill  a  few  pa'tridges,  and  when 
I  come  back  I  found  her  this  way.  I  wasn't  goin'  to 
close  down  for  three  hours  yet,  and  I  thought  they 
was  no  use  a  hangin'  around  here." 

"  Were  you  hired  to  watch  this  dam,  or  weren't 
you*?  "  demanded  the  tense  voice  of  Thorpe.  "  An- 
swer me,  you  fool." 

"  Yes,  I  was,"  returned  the  man,  a  shade  of  ag- 
gression creeping  into  his  voice. 

"  Well,  you've  done  it  well.  You've  cost  me  my 
dam,  and  you've  killed  five  men.  If  the  crew  finds 
out  about  you,  you'll  go  over  the  falls,  sure.  You 
get  out  of  here !  Pike !  Don't  you  ever  let  me  see 
your  face  again !  " 

The  man  blanched  as  he  thus  learned  of  his 
comrades'  deaths.     Thorpe  thrust  his  face  at  him, 

447 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

lashed  by  circumstances  beyond  his  habitual  self- 
control. 

"  It's  men  like  you  who  make  the  trouble,"  he 
stormed.  "  Damn  fools  who  say  they  didn't  mean 
to.  It  isn't  enough  not  to  mean  to.  They  should 
mean  not  to !  I  don't  ask  you  to  think.  I  just  want 
you  to  do  what  I  tell  you,  and  you  can't  even  do 
that." 

He  threw  his  shoulder  into  a  heavy  blow  that 
reached  the  dam-watcher's  face,  and  followed  it  im- 
mediately by  another.  Then  Shearer  caught  his  arm, 
motioning  the  dazed  and  bloody  victim  of  the  attack 
to  get  out  of  sight.  Thorpe  shook  his  foreman  off 
with  one  impatient  motion,  and  strode  away  up  the 
river,  his  head  erect,  his  eyes  flashing,  his  nostrils 
distended. 

"  I  reckon  you'd  better  mosey,"  Shearer  dryly  ad- 
vised the  dam  watcher;  and  followed. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  two  men  reached  Dam 
Three,  or  rather  the  spot  on  which  Dam  Three  had 
stood.  The  same  spectacle  repeated  itself  here,  ex- 
cept that  Ellis,  the  dam  watcher,  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen. 

"  The  dirty  whelps,"  cried  Thorpe,  "  they  did  a 
good  job!  " 

He  thrashed  about  here  and  there,  and  so  came 
across  Ellis  blindfolded  and  tied.  When  released, 
the  dam  watcher  was  unable  to  give  any  account  of 
his  assailants. 

448 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

"  They  came  up  behind  me  while  I  was  cooking," 
he  said.  "  One  of  'em  grabbed  me  and  the  other 
one  kivered  my  eyes.  Then  I  hears  the  '  shot '  and 
knows  there's  trouble." 

Thorpe  listened  in  silence.  Shearer  asked  a  few 
questions.  After  the  low-voiced  conversation  Thorpe 
arose  abruptly. 

"  Where  you  going*?  "  asked  Shearer. 

But  the  young  man  did  not  reply.  He  swung, 
with  the  same  long,  nervous  stride,  into  the  down- 
river trail. 

Until  late  that  night  the  three  men — for  Ellis 
insisted  on  accompanying  them — hurried  through 
the  forest.  Thorpe  walked  tirelessly,  upheld  by  his 
violent  but  repressed  excitement.  When  his  hat  fell 
from  his  head,  he  either  did  not  notice  the  fact,  or 
did  not  care  to  trouble  himself  for  its  recovery,  so 
ne  glanced  through  the  trees  bareheaded,  his  broad 
white  brow  gleaming  in  the  moonlight.  Shearer 
noted  the  fire  in  his  eyes,  and  from  the  coolness  of 
his  greater  age,  counselled  moderation. 

"  I  wouldn't  stir  the  boys  up,"  he  panted,  for  the 
pace  was  very  swift.  "  They'll  kill  some  one  over 
there,  it'll  be  murder  on  both  sides." 

He  received  no  answer.  About  midnight  they 
came  to  the  camp. 

Two  great  fires  leaped  among  the  trees,  and  the 
men,  past  the  idea  of  sleep,  grouped  between  them, 
talking.    The  lesson  of  twisted  timbers  was  not  lost 

449 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

to  their  experience,  and  the  evening  had  brought  its 
accumulation  of  slow  anger  against  the  perpetrators 
of  the  outrage.  These  men  were  not  given  to  ora- 
torical mouthings,  but  their  low-voiced  exchanges 
between  the  puffings  of  a  pipe  led  to  a  steadier  pur- 
pose than  that  of  hysteria.  Even  as  the  woodsmen 
joined  their  group,  they  had  reached  the  intensity 
of  execution.  Across  their  purpose  Thorpe  threw 
violently  his  personality. 

"  You  must  not  go,"  he  commanded. 

Through  their  anger  they  looked  at  him  askance. 

"  I  forbid  it,"  Thorpe  cried. 

They  shrugged  their  indifference  and  arose.  This 
was  an  affair  of  caste  brotherhood ;  and  the  blood  of 
their  mates  cried  out  to  them. 

"  The  work,"  Thorpe  shouted  hoarsely.  "  The 
work!  We  must  get  those  logs  out!  We  haven't 
time!" 

But  the  Fighting  Forty  had  not  Thorpe's  ideal. 
Success  meant  a  day's  work  well  done;  while  ven- 
geance stood  for  a  righting  of  the  realities  which  had 
been  unrighteously  overturned.  Thorpe's  dry-eyed, 
burning,  almost  mad  insistence  on  the  importance  of 
the  day's  task  had  not  its  ordinary  force.  They 
looked  upon  him  from  a  standpoint  apart,  calmly, 
dispassionately,  as  one  looks  on  a  petulant  child. 
The  grim  call  of  tragedy  had  lifted  them  above  little 
mundane  things. 

Then  swiftly  between  the  white,  strained  face  of 
45o 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAiL 

the  madman  trying  to  convince  his  heart  that  his 
mind  had  been  right,  and  the  fanatically  exalted 
rivermen,  interposed  the  sanity  of  Radway.  The 
old  jobber  faced  the  men  calmly,  almost  humor- 
ously, and  somehow  the  very  bigness  of  the  man 
commanded  attention.  When  he  spoke,  his  coarse, 
good-natured,  every-day  voice  fell  through  the  tense 
situation,  clarifying  it,  restoring  it  to  the  normal. 

"  You  fellows  make  me  sick,"  said  he.  "  You 
haven't  got  the  sense  God  gave  a  rooster.  Don't 
you  see  you're  playing  right  in  those  fellows'  hands? 
What  do  you  suppose  they  dynamited  them  dams 
for?  To  kill  our  boys?  Don't  you  believe  it  for  a 
minute.  They  never  dreamed  we  was  dry-pickin' 
that  jam.  They  sent  some  low-lived  whelp  down 
,  there  to  hang  our  drive,  and  by  smoke  it  looks  like 
they  was  going  to  succeed,  thanks  to  you  mutton- 
heads. 

" 'Spose  you  go  over  and  take  'em  apart;  what 
then?  You  have  a  scrap;  probably  you  lick  'em." 
The  men  growled  ominously,  but  did  not  stir.  "  You 
whale  daylights  out  of  a  lot  of  men  who  probably 
don't  know  any  more  about  this  here  shooting  of 
our  dams  than  a  hog  does  about  a  ruffled  shirt. 
Meanwhile  your  drive  hangs.  Well?  Well?  Do 
you  suppose  the  men  who  were  back  of  that  shoot- 
ing, do  you  suppose  Morrison  and  Daly  give  a 
tinker's  dam  how  many  men  of  theirs  you  lick? 
"What   they  want  is  to  hang  our  drive.     If  they 

45i 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

hang  our  drive,  it's  cheap  at  the  price  of  a  few 
black  eyes." 

The  speaker  paused  and  grinned  good-humoredly 
at  the  men's  attentive  faces.  Then  suddenly  his 
own  became  grave,  and  he  swung  into  his  argument 
all  the  impressiveness  of  his  great  bulk. 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  how  to  get  even*?  "  he 
asked,  shading  each  word.  "  Do  you  want  to  know 
how  to  make  those  fellows  sing  so  small  you  can't 
hear  them'?  Well,  I'll  tell  you.  tfuke  out  this 
drive!  Do  it  in  spite  of  them!  Show  them  they're 
no  good  when  they  buck  up  against  Thorpe's  One ! 
Our  boys  died  doing  their  duty — the  way  a  riverman 
ought  to.  Now  hump  yourselves!  Don't  let  'em 
die  in  vain !  " 

The  crew  stirred  uneasily,  looking  at  each  other 
for  approval  of  the  conversion  each  had  experienced. 
Radway,  seizing  the  psychological  moment,  turned 
easily  toward  the  blaze. 

"  Better  turn  in,  boys,  and  get  some  sleep,"  he 
said.  "  We've  got  a  hard  day  to-morrow."  He 
stooped  to  light  his  pipe  at  the  fire.  When  he  had 
again  straightened  his  back  after  rather  a  prolonged 
interval,  the  group  had  already  disintegrated.  A 
few  minutes  later  the  cookee  scattered  the  brands  of 
the  fire  from  before  a  sleeping  camp. 

Thorpe  had  listened  non-committally  to  the  col- 
loquy. He  had  maintained  the  suspended  attitude 
oi  a  man  who  is  willing  to  allow  the  trial  of  other 

452 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

methods,  but  who  does  not  therefore  relinquish  his 
own.  At  the  favorable  termination  of  the  discussion 
he  turned  away  without  comment.  He  expected  to 
gain  this  result.  Had  he  been  in  a  more  judicial 
state  of  mind  he  might  have  perceived  at  last  the 
reason,  in  the  complicated  scheme  of  Providence,  for 
his  long  connection  with  John  Radway. 


45.1 


CHAPTER    FIFTY-ONE 

BEFORE  daylight  Injin  Charley  drifted  into 
the  camp  to  find  Thorpe  already  out.  With 
a  curt  nod  the  Indian  seated  himself  by  the  fire,  and, 
producing  a  square  plug  of  tobacco  and  a  knife,  be- 
gan leisurely  to  fill  his  pipe.  Thorpe  watched  him 
in  silence.  Finally  Injin  Charley  spoke  in  the  red 
man's  clear-cut,  imitative  English,  a  pause  between 
each  sentence. 

"  I  find  trail  three  men,"  said  he.  "  Both  dam, 
three  men.  One  man  go  down  river.  Those  men 
have  cork-boot.  One  man  no  have  cork-boot.  He 
boss." 

The  Indian  suddenly  threw  his  chin  out,  his  head 
back,  half  closed  his  eyes  in  a  cynical  squint.  As  by 
a  flash  Dyer,  the  scaler,  leered  insolently  from  be- 
hind the  Indian's  stolid  mask. 

"  How  do  you  know?  "  said  Thorpe. 

For  answer  the  Indian  threw  his  shoulders  for- 
ward in  Dyer's  nervous  fashion. 

"  He  make  trail  big  by  the  toe,  light  by  the  heel. 
He  make  trail  big  on  inside." 

Charley  arose  and  walked,  after  Dyer's  springy 
fashion,  illustrating  his  point  in  the  soft  wood  ashes 
of  the  immediate  fireside. 

454 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

Thorpe  looked  doubtful.  "  I  believe  you  are 
right,  Charley,"  said  he.  "  But  it  is  mighty  little 
to  go  on.    You  can't  be  sure." 

"  I  sure,"  replied  Charley. 

He  puffed  strongly  at  the  heel  of  his  smoke,  then 
arose,  and  without  farewell  disappeared  in  the 
forest. 

Thorpe  ranged  the  camp  impatiently,  glancing 
often  at  the  sky.  At  length  he  laid  fresh  logs  on  the 
fire  and  aroused  the  cook.  It  was  bitter  cold  in  the 
early  morning.  After  a  time  the  men  turned  out  of 
their  own  accord,  at  first  yawning  with  insufficient 
rest,  and  then  becoming  grimly  tense  as  their  re- 
turned wits  reminded  them  of  the  situation. 

From  that  moment  began  the  wonderful  struggle 
against  circumstances  which  has  become  a  by-word 
among  rivermen  everywhere.  A  forty-day  drive  had 
to  go  out  in  ten.  A  freshet  had  to  float  out  thirty 
million  feet  of  logs.  It  was  tremendous ;  as  even  the 
men  most  deeply  buried  in  the  heavy  hours  of  that 
time  dimly  realized.  It  was  epic;  as  the  journalist, 
by  now  thoroughly  aroused,  soon  succeeded  in  con- 
vincing his  editors  and  his  public.  Fourteen,  six- 
teen, sometimes  eighteen  hours  a  day,  the  men  of 
the  driving  crew  worked  like  demons.  Jams  had  no 
chance  to  form.  The  phenomenal  activity  of  the 
rear  crew  reduced  by  half  the  inevitable  sacking.  Of 
course,  under  the  pressure,  the  lower  dam  had  gone 
out.     Nothing  was  to  be  depended  on  but  sheer 

455 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

dogged  grit.  Far  up-river  Sadler  &  Smith  had  hung 
their  drive  for  the  season.  They  had  stretched 
heavy  booms  across  the  current,  and  so  had  resigned 
themselves  to  a  definite  but  not  extraordinary  loss. 
Thorpe  had  at  least  a  clear  river. 

Wallace  Carpenter  could  not  understand  how  hu- 
man flesh  and  blood  endured.  The  men  themselves 
had  long  since  reached  the  point  of  practical  ex- 
haustion, but  were  carried  through  by  the  fire  of 
their  leader.  Work  was  dogged  until  he  stormed 
into  sight;  then  it  became  frenzied.  He  seemed  to 
impart  to  those  about  him  a  nervous  force  and  ex- 
citability as  real  as  that  induced  by  brandy.  When 
he  looked  at  a  man  from  his  cavernous,  burning  eyes, 
that  man  jumped. 

It  was  all  willing  enough  work.  Several  definite 
causes,  each  adequate  alone  to  something  extraor- 
dinary>  focussed  to  the  necessity.  His  men  wor- 
shipped Thorpe;  the  idea  of  thwarting  the  purposes 
of  their  comrades'  murderers  retained  its  strength; 
the  innate  pride  of  caste  and  craft — the  sturdiest 
virtue  of  the  riverman — was  in  these  picked  men 
increased  to  the  dignity  of  a  passion.  The  great 
psychological  forces  of  a  successful  career  gathered 
and  made  head  against  the  circumstances  which  such 
careers  always  arouse  in  polarity. 

Impossibilities  were  puffed  aside  like  thistles.  The 
men  went  at  them  headlong.  They  gave  way  before 
the  rush.    Thorpe  always  led.    Not  for  a  single  in- 

456 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

stant  of  the  day  nor  for  many  at  night  was  he  at 
rest.  He  was  like  a  man  who  has  taken  a  deep 
breath  to  reach  a  definite  goal,  and  who  cannot 
exhale  until  the  burst  of  speed  be  over.  Instinctively 
he  seemed  to  realize  that  a  let-down  would  mean 
collapse. 

After  the  camp  had  fallen  asleep,  he  would  often 
lie  awake  half  of  the  few  hours  of  their  night,  every 
muscle  tense,  staring  at  the  sky.  His  mind  saw  defi- 
nitely every  detail  of  the  situation  as  he  had  last 
viewed  it.  In  advance  his  imagination  stooped  and 
sweated  to  the  work  which  his  body  was  to  accom- 
plish the  next  morning.  Thus  he  did  everything 
twice.  Then  at  last  the  tension  would  relax.  He 
would  fall  into  uneasy  sleep.  But  twice  that  did  not 
follow.  Through  the  dissolving  iron  mist  of  his 
striving,  a  sharp  thought  cleaved  like  an  arrow.  It 
was  that  after  all  he  did  not  care.  The  religion  of 
Success  no  longer  held  him  as  its  devoutest  wor- 
shipper. He  was  throwing  the  fibres  of  his  life  into 
the  engine  of  toil,  not  because  of  moral  duty,  but 
because  of  moral  pride.  He  meant  to  succeed  in 
order  to  prove  to  himself  that  he  had  not  been 
wrong. 

The  pain  of  the  arrow-wound  always  aroused  him 
from  his  doze  with  a  start.  He  grimly  laughed  the 
thought  out  of  court.  To  his  waking  moments  his 
religion  was  sincere,  was  real.  But  deep  down  in 
his    subconsciousness,    below    his    recognition,    the 

457 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

other  influence  was  growing  like  a  weed.  Perhaps 
the  vision,  not  the  waking,  had  been  right.  Perhaps 
that  far-off  beautiful  dream  of  a  girl  which  Thorpe's 
idealism  had  constructed  from  the  reactionary  neces- 
sities of  Thorpe's  harsh  life  had  been  more  real  than 
his  forest  temples  of  his  ruthless  god !  Perhaps  there 
were  greater  things  than  to  succeed,  greater  things 
than  success.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  Power  that  put 
us  here  demands  more  that  we  cleave  one  to  the 
other  in  loving-kindness  than  that  we  learn  to  blow 
the  penny  whistles  it  has  tossed  us.  And  then  the 
keen,  poignant  memory  of  the  dream  girl  stole  into 
the  young  man's  mind,  and  in  agony  was  immedi- 
ately thrust  forth.  He  would  not  think  of  her.  He 
had  given  her  up.  He  had  cast  the  die.  For  success 
he  had  bartered  her,  in  the  noblest,  the  loftiest  spirit 
of  devotion.  He  refused  to  believe  that  devotion 
fanatical;  he  refused  to  believe  that  he  had  been 
wrong.  In  the  still  darkness  of  the  night  he  would 
rise  and  steal  to  the  edge  of  the  dully  roaring  stream. 
There,  his  eyes  blinded  and  his  throat  choked  with 
a  longing  more  manly  than  tears,  he  would  reach 
out  and  smooth  the  round  rough  coats  of  the  great 
logs. 

"  We'll  do  it !  "  he  whispered  to  them — and  to 
himself.  "  We'll  do  it!  We  can't  be  wrong.  God 
would  not  have  let  us !  " 


458 


CHAPTER    FIFTY-TWO 

WALLACE  CARPENTER'S  search  expedi- 
tion had  proved  a  failure,  as  Thorpe  had 
foreseen,  but  at  the  end  of  the  week,  when  the  water 
began  to  recede,  the  little  beagles  ran  upon  a  mass 
of  flesh  and  bones.  The  man  was  unrecognizable, 
either  as  an  individual  or  as  a  human  being.  The 
remains  were  wrapped  in  canvas  and  sent  for  inter- 
ment in  the  cemetery  at  Marquette.  Three  of  the 
others  were  never  found.  The  last  did  not  come  to 
light  until  after  the  drive  had  quite  finished. 

Down  at  the  booms  the  jam  crew  received  the 
drive  as  fast  as  it  came  down.  From  one  crib  to 
another  across  the  broad  extent  of  the  river's  mouth, 
heavy  booms  were  chained  end  to  end  effectually  to 
close  the  exit  to  Lake  Superior.  Against  these  the 
logs  caromed  softly  in  the  slackened  current,  and 
stopped.  The  cribs  were  very  heavy  with  slanting, 
instead  of  square,  tops,  in  order  that  the  pressure 
might  be  downward  instead  of  sidewise.  This 
guaranteed  their  permanency.  In  a  short  time  the 
surface  of  the  lagoon  was  covered  by  a  brown  carpet 
of  logs  running  in  strange  patterns  like  windrows  of 
fallen  grain.     Finally,  across  the  straight  middle 

459 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

distance  of  the  river,  appeared  little  agitated  specks 
leaping  back  and  forth.  Thus  the  rear  came  in 
sight  and  the  drive  was  all  but  over. 

Up  till  now  the  weather  had  been  clear  but  op« 
pressively  hot  for  this  time  of  year.  The  heat  had 
come  suddenly  and  maintained  itself  well.  It  had 
searched  out  with  fierce  directness  all  the  patches  of 
snow  lying  under  the  thick  firs  and  balsams  of  the 
swamp  edge,  it  had  shaken  loose  the  anchor  ice  of 
the  marsh  bottoms,  and  so  had  materially  aided  the 
success  of  the  drive  by  increase  of  water.  The  men 
had  worked  for  the  most  part  in  undershirts.  They 
were  as  much  in  the  water  as  out  of  it,  for  the  icy 
bath  had  become  almost  grateful.  Hamilton,  the 
journalist,  who  had  attached  himself  definitely  to 
the  drive,  distributed  bunches  of  papers,  in  which 
the  men  read  that  the  unseasonable  condition  pre- 
vailed all  over  the  country. 

At  length,  however,  it  gave  signs  of  breaking. 
The  sky,  which  had  been  of  a  steel  blue,  harbored 
great  piled  thunder-heads.  Occasionally  athwart  the 
heat  shot  a  streak  of  cold  air.  Toward  evening  the 
thunder-heads  shifted  and  finally  dissipated,  to  be 
sure,  but  the  portent  was  there. 

Hamilton's  papers  began  to  tell  of  disturbances 
in  the  South  and  West.  A  washout  in  Arkansas 
derailed  a  train;  a  cloudburst  in  Texas  wiped 
out  a  camp;  the  cities  along  the  Ohio  River  were 
enjoying  their  annual   flood   with   the   usual   con- 

460 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

comitants  of  floating  houses  and  boats  in  the 
streets.  The  men  wished  they  had  some  of  that 
water  here. 

So  finally  the  drive  approached  its  end  and  all 
concerned  began  in  anticipation  to  taste  the  weari- 
ness that  awaited  them.  They  had  hurried  their 
powers.  The  few  remaining  tasks  still  confronting 
them  all  at  once  seemed  more  formidable  than  what 
they  had  accomplished.  They  could  not  contem- 
plate further  exertion.  The  work  for  the  first  time 
became  dogged,  distasteful.  Even  Thorpe  was  in- 
fected. He,  too,  wanted  more  than  anything  else  to 
drop  on  the  bed  in  Mrs.  Hathaway's  boarding-house, 
there  to  sponge  from  his  mind  all  colors  but  the  dead 
gray  of  rest.  There  remained  but  a  few  things  to 
do.  A  mile  of  sacking  would  carry  the  drive  beyond 
the  influence  of  freshet  water.  After  that  there 
would  be  no  hurry. 

He  looked  around  at  the  hard,  fatigue-worn  faces 
of  the  men  about  him,  and  in  the  obsession  of  his 
wearied  mood  he  suddenly  felt  a  great  rush  of  affec- 
tion for  these  comrades  who  had  so  unreservedly 
spent  themselves  for  his  affair.  Their  features 
showed  exhaustion,  it  is  true,  but  their  eyes  gleamed 
still  with  the  steady  half-humorous  purpose  of  the 
pioneer.  When  they  caught  his  glance  they  grinned 
good-humoredly. 

All  at  once  Thorpe  turned  and  started  for  the 
bank. 

461 


THE  -BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  That'll  do,  boys,"  he  said  quietly  to  the  nearest 
group.     "  She's  down !  " 

It  was  noon.  The  sackers  looked  up  in  surprise. 
Behind  them,  to  their  very  feet,  rushed  the  soft 
smooth  slope  of  Hemlock  Rapids.  Below  them 
flowed  a  broad,  peaceful  river.  The  drive  had 
passed  its  last  obstruction.  To  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses it  was  over. 

Calmly,  with  matter-of-fact  directness,  as  though 
they  had  not  achieved  the  impossible;  as  though 
they,  a  handful,  had  not  cheated  nature  and  power- 
ful enemies,  they  shouldered  their  peaveys  and 
struck  into  the  broad  wagon  road.  In  the  middle 
distance  loomed  the  tall  stacks  of  the  mill  with  the 
little  board  town  about  it.  Across  the  eye  spun  the 
thread  of  the  railroad.  Far  away  gleamed  the  broad 
expanses  of  Lake  Superior. 

The  cook  had,  early  that  morning,  moored  the 
wanigan  to  the  bank.  One  of  the  teamsters  from 
town  had  loaded  the  men's  "  turkeys  "  on  his  heavy 
wagon.  The  wanigan's  crew  had  thereupon 
trudged  into  town. 

The  men  paired  off  naturally  and  fell  into  a 
dragging,  dogged  walk.  Thorpe  found  himself  un- 
expectedly with  Big  Junko.  For  a  time  they 
plodded  on  without  conversation.  Then  the  big 
man  ventured  a  remark. 

"  I'm  glad  she's  over,"  said  he.  "  I  got  a  good 
stake  comin'." 

462 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

"  Yes,"  replied  Thorpe  indifferently. 

"  I  got  most  six  hundred  dollars  comin',"  per- 
sisted Junko. 

"  Might  as  well  be  six  hundred  cents,"  commented 
Thorpe,  "  it'd  make  you  just  as  drunk." 

Big  Junko  laughed  self-consciously  but  without 
the  slightest  resentment. 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  he,  "  but  you  betcher  life 
I  don't  blow  this  stake." 

"I've  heard  that  talk  before,"  shrugged  Thorpe. 

"  Yes,  but  this  is  different.  I'm  goin'  to  git  mar- 
ried on  this.    How's  that%  " 

Thorpe,  his  attention  struck  at  last,  stared  at  his 
companion.  He  noted  the  man's  little  twinkling 
animal  eyes,  his  high  cheek-bones,  his  flat  nose,  his 
thick  and  slobbery  lips,  his  straggling,  fierce  mus- 
tache and  eyebrows,  his  grotesque  long-tailed  cut- 
away coat.  So  to  him,  too,  this  primitive  man  reach- 
ing dully  from  primordial  chaos,  the  great  moment 
had  yielded  its  vision. 

"  Who  is  she?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

"  She  used  to  wash  at  Camp  Four." 

Thorpe  dimly  remembered  the  woman  now — an 
overweighted  creature  with  a  certain  attraction  of 
elfishly  blowing  hair,  with  a  certain  pleasing  full- 
cheeked,  full-bosomed  health. 

The  two  walked  on  in  re-established  silence. 
Finally  the  giant,  ?mable  to  contain  himself  longer, 
broke  out  again. 

463 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  I  do  like  that  woman,"  said  he  with  a  quaintly 
deliberate  seriousness.  "  That's  the  finest  woman  in 
this  district." 

Thorpe  felt  the  quick  moisture  rush  to  his  eyes. 
There  was  something  inexpressibly  touching  in  those 
simple  words  as  Big  Junko  uttered  them. 

"  And  when  you  are  married,"  he  asked,  "  what 
are  you  going  to  do?  Are  you  going  to  stay  on  the 
river?" 

"  No,  I'm  goin'  to  clear  a  farm.  The  woman  she 
says  that's  the  thing  to  do.  I  like  the  river,  too. 
But  you  bet  when  Carrie  says  a  thing,  that's  plenty 
good  enough  for  Big  Junko." 

"  Suppose,"  suggested  Thorpe,  irresistibly  im- 
pelled toward  the  attempt,  "  suppose  I  should  offer 
you  two  hundred  dollars  a  month  to  stay  on  the 
river.    Would  you  stay"?  " 

"  Carrie  don't  like  it,"  replied  Junko. 

"  Two  hundred  dollars  is  big  wages,"  persisted 
Thorpe.     "  It's  twice  what  I  give  Radway." 

"  I'd  like  to  ask  Carrie." 

"  No,  take  it  or  leave  it  now." 

"  Well,  Carrie  says  she  don't  like  it,"  answered 
the  riverman  with  a  sigh. 

Thorpe  looked  at  his  companion  fixedly.  Some- 
how the  bestial  countenance  had  taken  on  an  attrac- 
tion of  its  own.  He  remembered  Big  Junko  as  a 
wild  beast  when  his  passions  were  aroused,  as  a  man 
whose  honesty  had  been  doubted. 

464 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

"  You've  changed,  Junko,"  said  he. 

"  I  know,"  said  the  big  man.  "  I  been  a  scalawag 
all  right.  I  quit  it.  I  don't  know  much,  but  Carrie 
she's  smart,  and  I'm  goin'  to  do  what  she  says. 
When  you  get  stuck  on  a  good  woman  like  Carrie, 
Mr.  Thorpe,  you  don't  give  much  of  a  damn  for 
anything  else.  Sure!  That's  right!  It's  the  big- 
gest thing  top  o'  earth !  " 

Here  it  was  again,  the  opposing  creed.  And  from 
such  a  source.    Thorpe's  iron  will  contracted  again. 

"  A  woman  is  no  excuse  for  a  man's  neglecting 
his  work,"  he  snapped. 

"  Shorely  not,"  agreed  Junko  serenely.  "I  aim 
to  finish  out  my  time  all  right,  Mr.  Thorpe.  Don't 
you  worry  none  about  that.  I  done  my  best  for  you. 
And,"  went  on  the  riverman  in  the  expansion  of  this 
unwonted  confidence  with  his  employer,  "I'd  like 
to  rise  to  remark  that  you're  the  best  boss  I  ever 
had,  and  we  boys  wants  to  stay  with  her  till  there's 
skating  in  hell !  " 

"  All  right,"  murmured  Thorpe  indifferently. 

His  momentary  interest  had  left  him.  Again  the 
reactionary  weariness  dragged  at  his  feet.  Suddenly 
the  remaining  half  mile  to  town  seemed  very  long 
indeed. 


465 


CHAPTER    FIFTY-THREE 

WALLACE  CARPENTER  and  Hamilton, 
the  journalist,  seated  against  the  sun- 
wanned  bench  of  Mrs.  Hathaway' s  boarding-house, 
commented  on  the  band  as  it  stumbled  into  the 
wash-room. 

"  Those  men  don't  know  how  big  they  are,"  re- 
marked the  journalist.  "  That's  the  way  with  most 
big  men.  And  that  man  Thorpe  belongs  to  another 
age.  I'd  like  to  get  him  to  telling  his  experiences; 
he'd  be  a  gold  mine  to  me." 

"  And  would  require  about  as  much  trouble  to 
'  work,'  "  laughed  Wallace.     "  He  won't  talk." 

"  That's  generally  the  trouble,  confound  'em," 
sighed  Hamilton.  "  The  fellows  who  can  talk 
haven't  anything  to  say;  and  those  who  have  some- 
thing to  tell  are  dumb  as  oysters.  I've  got  him  in 
though."  He  spread  one  of  a  roll  of  papers  on  his 
knees.  "  I  got  a  set  of  duplicates  for  you.  Thought 
you  might  like  to  keep  them.  The  office  tells  me," 
he  concluded  modestly,  "  that  they  are  attracting 
lots  of  attention,  but  are  looked  upon  as  being  a 
rather  clever  sort  of  fiction." 

Wallace  picked  up  the  sheet.  His  eye  was  at 
once  met  by  the  heading,  "  '  So  long,  boys,'  "  in  let- 

466 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

ters  a  half  inch  in  height,  and  immediately  under- 
neath in  smaller  type,  "  said  Jimmy  Powers,  and 
threw  his  hat  in  the  face  of  death." 

"  It's  all  there,"  explained  the  journalist,  "  — the 
jam  and  the  break,  and  all  this  magnificent  struggle 
afterward.  It  makes  a  great  yarn.  I  feel  tempted 
sometimes  to  help  it  out  a  little — artistically,  you 
know — but  of  course  that  wouldn't  do.  She'd  make 
a  ripping  yarn,  though,  if  I  could  get  up  some 
motive  outside  mere  trade  rivalry  for  the  blowing 
up  of  those  dams.    That  would  just  round  it  off." 

Wallace  Carpenter  was  about  to  reply  that  such  a 
motive  actually  existed,  when  the  conversation  was 
interrupted  by  the  approach  of  Thorpe  and  Big 
Junko.  The  former  looked  twenty  years  older  after 
his  winter.  His  eye  was  dull,  his  shoulders  drooped, 
his  gait  was  inelastic.  The  whole  bearing  of  the 
man  was  that  of  one  weary  to  the  bone. 

"I've  got  something  here  to  show  you,  Harry," 
cried  Wallace  Carpenter,  waving  one  of  the  papers. 
"  It  was  a  great  drive  and  here's  something  to  re- 
member it  by." 

"  All  right,  Wallace,  by  and  by,"  replied  Thorpe 
dully.  "  I'm  dead.  I'm  going  to  turn  in  for  a 
while.  I  need  sleep  more  than  anything  else.  I 
can't  think  now." 

He  passed  through  the  little  passage  into  the 
"  parlor  bedroom,"  which  Mrs.  Hathaway  always 
kept  in  readiness  for  members  of  the  firm.     There 

467 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

he  fell  heavily  asleep  almost  before  his  body  had 
met  the  bed. 

In  the  long  dining-room  the  rivermen  consumed  a 
belated  dinner.  They  had  no  comments  to  make.  It 
was  over. 

The  two  on  the  veranda  smoked.  To  the  right,  at 
the  end  of  the  sawdust  street,  the  mill  sang  its  vary- 
ing and  lulling  keys.  The  odor  of  fresh-sawed  pine 
perfumed  the  air.  Not  a  hundred  yards  away  the 
river  slipped  silently  to  the  distant  blue  Superior, 
escaping  between  the  slanting  stone-filled  cribs  which 
held  back  the  logs.  Down  the  south  and  west  the 
huge  thunder-heads  gathered  and  flashed  and  grum- 
bled, as  they  had  done  every  afternoon  for  days 
previous. 

"  Queer  thing,"  commented  Hamilton  finally, 
"  these  cold  streaks  in  the  air.  They  are  just  as  dis- 
tinct as  though  they  had  partitions  around  them." 

"  Queer  climate  anyway,"  agreed  Carpenter. 

Excepting  always  for  the  mill,  the  little  settle- 
ment appeared  asleep.  The  main  booms  were  quite 
deserted.  Not  a  single  figure,  armed  with  its  pic- 
turesque pike-pole,  loomed  athwart  the  distance. 
After  a  while  Hamilton  noticed  something. 

"  Look  here,  Carpenter,"  said  he,  "  what's  hap- 
pening out  there*?  Have  some  of  your  confounded 
logs  sunk,  or  what?  There  don't  seem  to  be  near  so 
many  of  them  somehow." 

"  No,  it  isn't  that,"  proffered  Carpenter  after  a 
468 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

moment's  scrutiny,  "  there  are  just  as  many  logs,  but 
they  are  getting  separated  a  little  so  you  can  see  the 
open  water  between  them." 

"  Guess  you're  right.  Say,  look  here,  I  believe 
that  the  river  is  rising!  " 

"  Nonsense,  we  haven't  had  any  rain." 

"  She's  rising  just  the  same.  I'll  tell  you  how  I 
know;  you  see  that  spile  over  there  near  the  left- 
hand  crib*?  Well,  I  sat  on  the  boom  this  morning 
watching  the  crew,  and  I  whittled  the  spile  with  my 
knife — you  can  see  the  marks  from  here.  I  cut  the 
thing  about  two  feet  above  the  water.  Look  at  it 
now." 

"  She's  pretty  near  the  water  line,  that's  right," 
admitted  Carpenter. 

"  I  should  think  that  might  make  the  boys  hot" 
commented  Hamilton.  "  If  they'd  known  this  was 
coming,  they  needn't  have  hustled  so  to  get  the  drive 
down." 

"  That's  so,"  Wallace  agreed. 

About  an  hour  later  the  younger  man  in  his  turn 
made  a  discovery. 

"  She's  been  rising  right  along,"  he  submitted. 
"  Your  marks  are  nearer  the  water,  and,  do  you 
know,  I  believe  the  logs  are  beginning  to  feel  it. 
See,  they've  closed  up  the  little  openings  between 
them,  and  they  are  beginning  to  crowd  down  to  the 
lower  end  of  the  pond." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  this  business," 
469 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

hazarded  the  journalist,  "  but  by  the  mere  look  of 
the  thing  I  should  think  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
pressure  on  that  same  lower  end.  By  Jove,  look 
there!  See  those  logs  up-end*?  I  believe  you're  go- 
ing to  have  a  jam  right  here  in  your  own  booms!  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  hesitated  Wallace,  "  I  never 
heard  of  its  happening." 

"  You'd  better  let  some  one  know." 

"  I  hate  to  bother  Harry  or  any  of  the  rivermen. 
I'll  just  step  down  to  the  mill.  Mason — he's  our 
mill  foreman — he'll  know." 

Mason  came  to  the  edge  of  the  high  trestle  and 
took  one  look. 

"  Jumpin'  fish-hooks !  "  he  cried.  "  Why,  the 
river's  up  six  inches  and  still  a  comin' !  Here  you, 
Tom !  "  he  called  to  one  of  the  yard  hands,  "  you 
tell  Solly  to  get  steam  on  that  tug  double  quick,  and 
have  Dave  hustle  together  his  driver  crew." 

"  What  you  going  to  do?  "  asked  Wallace. 

"  I  got  to  strengthen  the  booms,"  explained  the 
mill  foreman.  "  We'll  drive  some  piles  across  be- 
tween the  cribs." 

"  Is  there  any  danger?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  the  river  would  have  to  rise  a  good  deal 
higher  than  she  is  now  to  make  current  enough  to 
hurt.  They've  had  a  hard  rain  up  above.  This  will 
go  down  in  a  few  hours." 

After  a  time  the  tug  puffed  up  to  the  booms, 
escorting  the  pile  driver.     The  latter  towed  a  little 

470 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

raft  of  long  sharpened  piles,  which  it  at  once  began 
to  drive  in  such  positions  as  would  most  effectually 
strengthen  the  booms.  In  the  meantime  the  thun- 
der-heads had  slyly  climbed  the  heavens,  so  that  a 
sudden  deluge  of  rain  surprised  the  workmen.  For 
an  hour  it  poured  down  in  torrents;  then  settled  to 
a  steady  gray  beat.  Immediately  the  aspect  had 
changed.  The  distant  rise  of  land  was  veiled;  the 
brown  expanse  of  logs  became  slippery  and  glisten- 
ing; the  river  below  the  booms  was  picked  into  stac- 
cato points  by  the  drops;  distant  Superior  turned 
lead  color  and  seemed  to  tumble  strangely  athwart 
the  horizon. 

Solly,  the  tug  captain,  looked  at  his  mooring 
hawsers  and  then  at  the  nearest  crib. 

"  She's  riz  two  indies  in  th'  las'  two  hours,"  he 
announced,  "  and  she's  runnin'  like  a  mill  race." 
Solly  was  a  typical  north-country  tug  captain,  short 
and  broad,  with  a  brown,  clear  face,  and  the  steadi- 
est and  calmest  of  steel-blue  eyes.  "When  she 
begins  to  feel  th'  pressure  behind,"  he  went  on, 
"  there's  goin'  to  be  trouble." 

Toward  dusk  she  began  to  feel  that  pressure. 
Through  the  rainy  twilight  the  logs  could  be  seen 
raising  their  ghostly  arms  of  protest.  Slowly,  with- 
out tumult,  the  jam  formed.  In  the  van  the  logs 
crossed  silently;  in  the  rear  they  pressed  in,  were 
sucked  under  in  the  swift  water,  and  came  to  rest  at 
the  bottom  of  the  river.     The  current  of  the  river 

47i 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

began  to  protest,  pressing  its  hydraulics  through  the 
narrowing  crevices.  The  situation  demanded  atten- 
tion. 

A  breeze  began  to  pull  off  shore  in  the  body  of 
rain.  Little  by  little  it  increased,  sending  the  water 
by  in  gusts,  ruffling  the  already  hurrying  river  into 
greater  haste,  raising  far  from  the  shore  dimly  per* 
ceived  white-caps.  Between  the  roaring  of  the  wind, 
the  dash  of  rain,  and  the  rush  of  the  stream,  men 
had  to  shout  to  make  themselves  heard. 

"  Guess  you'd  better  rout  out  the  boss,"  screamed 
Solly  to  Wallace  Carpenter;  "this  damn  water's 
comin'  up  an  inch  an  hour  right  along.  When  she 
backs  up  once,  she'll  push  this  jam  out  sure." 

Wallace  ran  to  the  boarding-house  and  rouseh  nis 
partner  from  a  heavy  sleep.  The  latter  understood 
the  situation  at  a  word.  While  dressing,  he  ex« 
plained  to  the  younger  man  wherein  lay  the  danger. 

"  If  the  jam  breaks  once,"  said  he,  "  nothing  top 
of  earth  can  prevent  it  from  going  out  into  the  Lake, 
and  there  it'll  scatter,  Heaven  knows  where.  Once 
scattered,  it  is  practically  a  total  loss.  The  salvage 
wouldn't  pay  the  price  of  the  lumber." 

They  felt  blindly  through  the  rain  in  the  direction 
of  the  lights  on  the  tug  and  pile-driver.  Shearer, 
the  water  dripping  from  his  flaxen  mustache,  joined 
them  like  a  shadow. 

"  I  heard  you  come  in,"  he  explained  to  Carpen- 
ter.   At  the  river  he  announced  his  opinion.     "  We 

472 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

can  hold  her  all  right,"  he  assured  them.  "  It'll  take 
a  few  more  piles,  but  by  morning  the  storm' 11  be 
over,  and  she'll  begin  to  go  down  again." 

The  three  picked  their  way  over  the  creaking, 
swaying  timber.  But  when  they  reached  the  pile- 
driver,  they  found  trouble  afoot.  The  crew  had 
mutinied,  and  refused  longer  to  drive  piles  under 
the  face  of  the  jam. 

"  If  she  breaks  loose,  she's  going  to  bury  us,"  said 
they. 

"  She  won't  break,"  snapped  Shearer,  "  get  to 
work." 

"  It's  dangerous,"  they  objected  sullenly. 

*  By  God,  you  get  off  this  driver,"  shouted  Solly. 
"  Go  over  and  lie  down  in  a  ten-acre  lot,  and  see 
if  you  feel  safe  there !  " 

He  drove  them  ashore  with  a  storm  of  profanity 
and  a  multitude  of  kicks,  his  steel-blue  eyes  blazing. 

"  There's  nothing  for  it  but  to  get  the  boys  out 
again,"  said  Tim;  "  1  kinder  hate  to  do  it." 

But  when  the  Fighting  Forty,  half  asleep  but 
dauntless,  took  charge  of  the  driver,  a  catastrophe 
made  itself  known.  One  of  the  ejected  men  had 
tripped  the  lifting  chain  of  the  hammer  after  an- 
other had  knocked  away  the  heavy  preventing  block, 
and  so  the  hammer  had  fallen  into  the  river  and  was 
lost.  None  other  was  to  be  had.  The  pile-driver 
was  useless. 

A  dozen  men  were  at  once  despatched  for  cables, 
4»~3 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

chains,  and  wire  ropes  from  the  supply  at  the  ware- 
house. 

"  I'd  like  to  have  those  whelps  here,"  cried 
Shearer,  "  I'd  throw  them  under  the  jam." 

"  It's  part  of  the  same  trick,"  said  Thorpe  grimly; 
"  those  fellows  have  their  men  everywhere  among 
us.    I  don't  know  whom  to  trust." 

"You  think  it's  Morrison  &  Daly?"  queried 
Carpenter  astonished. 

"  Think*?  I  know  it.  They  know  as  well  as  you 
or  I  that  if  we  save  these  logs,  we'll  win  out  in  the 
stock  exchange;  and  they're  not  such  fools  as  to  let 
us  save  them  if  it  can  be  helped.  I  have  a  score  to 
settle  with  those  fellows;  and  when  I  get  through 
with  this  thing  I'll  settle  it  all  right." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  now?  " 

"  The  only  thing  there  is  to  be  done.  We'll 
string  heavy  booms,  chained  together,  between  the 
cribs,  and  then  trust  to  heaven  they'll  hold.  I  think 
we  can  hold  the  jam.  The  water  will  begin  to  flow 
over  the  bank  before  long,  so  there  won't  be  much 
increase  of  pressure  over  what  we  have  now ;  and  as 
there  won't  be  any  shock  to  withstand,  I  think  our 
heavy  booms  will  do  the  business." 

He  turned  to  direct  the  boring  of  some  long  boom 
logs  in  preparation  for  the  chains.  Suddenly  he 
whirled  again  to  Wallace  with  so  strange  an  expres- 
sion in  his  face  that  the  young  man  almost  cried  out. 
The  uncertain  light  of  the  lanterns  showed  dimly 

474 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

'.he  streaks  of  rain  across  his  countenance,  and  his  eye 
flared  with  a  look  almost  of  panic. 

"  I  never  thought  of  it !  "  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 
"  Fool  that  I  am !  I  don't  see  how  I  missed  it. 
Wallace,  don't  you  see  what  those  devils  will  do 
next?" 

"  No,  what  do  you  mean*?  "  gasped  the  younger 
man. 

"  There  are  twelve  million  feet  of  logs  up  river 
in  Sadler  &  Smith's  drive.  Don't  you  see  what 
they'll  do?" 

"  No,  I  don't  believe " 

•  •  Just  as  soon  as  they  find  out  that  the  river  is 
booming,  and  that  we  are  going  to  have  a  hard  time 
to  hold  our  jam,  they'll  let  loose  those  twelve  million 
on  us.  They'll  break  the  jam,  or  dynamite  it,  or 
something.  And  let  me  tell  you  that  a  very  few 
logs  hitting  the  tail  of  our  jam  will  start  the  whole 
shooting  match  so  that  no  power  on  earth  can  stop 
it." 

"  I  don't  imagine  they'd  think  of  doing  that — " 
began  Wallace  by  way  of  assurance. 

"Think  of  it!  You  don't  know  them.  They've 
thought  of  everything.  You  don't  know  that  man 
Daly.     Ask  Tim,  he'll  tell  you." 

"  Well,  the " 

"  I've  got  to  send  a  man  up  there  right  away. 
Perhaps  we  can  get  there  in  time  to  head  them  off. 
They  have  to  send  their  man  over —    By  the  way," 

475 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

he  queried,  struck  with  a  new  idea,  "  how  long  have 
you  been  driving  piles'?  " 

"  Since  about  three  o'clock." 

"  Six  hours,"  computed  Thorpe.  "  I  wish  you'd 
come  for  me  sooner." 

He  cast  his  eye  rapidly  over  the  men. 

"  I  don't  know  just  who  to  send.  There  isn't  a 
good  enough  woodsman  in  the  lot  to  make  Siscoe 
Falls  through  the  woods  a  night  like  this.  The  river 
trail  is  too  long;  and  a  cut  through  the  woods  is 
blind.  Andrews  is  the  only  man  I  know  of  who 
could  do  it,  but  I  think  Billy  Mason  said  Andrews 
had  gone  up  on  the  Gunther  track  to  run  lines. 
Come  on;  we'll  see." 

With  infinite  difficulty  and  caution,  they  reached 
the  shore.  Across  the  gleaming  logs  shone  dimly 
the  lanterns  at  the  scene  of  work,  ghostly  through 
the  rain.  Beyond,  on  either  side,  lay  impenetrable 
drenched  darkness,  racked  by  the  wind. 

"  I  wouldn't  want  to  tackle  it,"  panted  Thorpe. 
"  If  it  wasn't  for  that  cursed  tote  road  between  Sad- 
ler's and  Daly's,  I  wouldn't  worry.  It's  just  too 
easy  for  them." 

Behind  them  the  jam  cracked  and  shrieked  and 
groaned.  Occasionally  was  heard,  beneath  the 
sharper  noises,  a  dull  boom,  as  one  of  the  heavy 
timbers,  forced  by  the  pressure  from  its  resting-place, 
shot  into  the  air,  and  fell  back  on  the  bristling  sur- 
face 

476 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

Andrews  had  left  that  morning. 

"  Tim  Shearer  might  do  it,"  suggested  Thorpe, 
"  but  I  hate  to  spare  him." 

He  picked  his  rifle  from  its  rack  and  thrust  the 
magazine  full  of  cartridges. 

"  Come  on,  Wallace,"  said  he,  "  we'll  hunt  him 
up." 

They  stepped  again  into  the  shriek  and  roar  of 
the  storm,  bending  their  heads  to  its  power,  but 
indifferent,  in  the  already  drenched  condition  of  their 
clothing,  to  the  rain.  The  sawdust  street  was  satu- 
rated like  a  sponge.  They  could  feel  the  quick 
water  rise  about  the  pressure  at  their  feet.  From 
the  invisible  houses  they  heard  a  steady  monotone 
of  flowing  from  the  roofs.  Far  ahead,  dim  in  the 
mist,  sprayed  the  light  of  lanterns. 

Suddenly  Thorpe  felt  a  touch  on  his  arm.  Faintly 
he  perceived  at  his  elbow  the  high  lights  of  a  face 
from  which  the  water  streamed. 

"  Injin  Charley!  "  he  cried,  "  the  very  man!  " 


477 


CHAPTER    FIFTY-FOUR 

RAPIDLY  Thorpe  explained  what  was  to  be 
done,  and  thrust  his  rifle  into  the  Indian's 
hands.  The  latter  listened  in  silence  and  stolidity, 
then  turned,  and  without  a  word  departed  swiftly  in 
the  darkness.  The  two  white  men  stood  a  minute 
attentive.  Nothing  was  to  be  heard  but  the  steady 
beat  of  rain  and  the  roaring  of  the  wind. 

Near  the  bank  of  the  river  they  encountered  a 
man,  visible  only  as  an  uncertain  black  outline 
against  the  glow  of  the  lanterns  beyond.  Thorpe, 
stopping  him,  found  Big  Junko. 

"  This  is  no  time  to  quit,"  said  Thorpe,  sharply. 

"  I  'aint  quittin',"  replied  Big  Junko. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  then1?  " 

Junko  was  partially  and  stammeringly  unre- 
sponsive. J 

"  Looks  bad,"  commented  Thorpe.  "  You'd  bet- 
ter get  back  to  your  job." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Junko  helplessly.  In  the  mo- 
mentary slack  tide  of  work,  the  giant  had  conceived 
the  idea  of  searching  out  the  driver  crew  for  pur- 
poses of  pugilistic  vengeance.  Thorpe's  suspicions 
stung  him,  but  his  simple  mind  could  see  no  direct 
way  to  explanation. 

478 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

All  night  long  in  the  chill  of  a  spring  rain  and 
wind-storm  the  Fighting  Forty  and  certain  of  the 
mill  crew  gave  themselves  to  the  labor  of  connecting 
the  slanting  stone  cribs  so  strongly,  by  means  of 
heavy  timbers  chained  end  to  end,  that  the  pressure 
of  a  break  in  the  jam  might  not  sweep  aside  the 
defences.  Wallace  Carpenter,  Shorty,  the  chore- 
boy,  and  Anderson,  the  barn-boss,  picked  a  danger- 
ous passage  back  and  forth  carrying  pails  of  red-hot 
coffee  which  Mrs.  Hathaway  constantly  prepared. 
The  cold  water  numbed  the  men's  hands.  With 
difficulty  could  they  manipulate  the  heavy  chains 
through  the  auger  holes;  with  pain  they  twisted 
knots,  bored  holes.  They  did  not  complain.  Behind 
them  the  jam  quivered,  perilously  near  the  bursting 
point.  From  it  shrieked  aloud  the  demons  of  pres- 
sure. Steadily  the  river  rose,  an  inch  an  hour.  The 
key  might  snap  at  any  given  moment — they  could 
not  tell — and  with  the  rush  they  knew  very  well 
that  themselves,  the  tug,  and  the  disabled  pile-driver 
would  be  swept  from  existence.  The  worst  of  it 
was  that  the  blackness  shrouded  their  experience  into 
uselessness;  they  were  utterly  unable  to  tell  by  the 
ordinary  visual  symptoms  how  near  the  jam  might 
be  to  collapse. 

However,  they  persisted,  as  the  old-time  riverman 
always  does,  so  that  when  dawn  appeared  the  bar- 
Tier  was  continuous  and  assured.  Although  the 
pressure  of  the  river  had  already  forced  the  logts 

479 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

against    the    defences,    the    latter    held    the    strain 
well. 

The  storm  had  settled  into  its  gait.  Overhead  the 
sky  was  filled  with  gray,  beneath  which  darker  scuds 
flew  across  the  zenith  before  a  howling  southwest 
wind.  Out  in  the  clear  river  one  could  hardly  stand 
upright  against  the  gusts.  In  the  fan  of  many  direc- 
tions furious  squalls  swept  over  the  open  water  below 
the  booms,  and  an  eager  boiling  current  rushed  to 
the  lake. 

Thorpe  now  gave  orders  that  the  tug  and  driver 
should  take  shelter.  A  few  moments  later  he  ex- 
pressed himself  as  satisfied.  The  dripping  crew, 
their  harsh  faces  gray  in  the  half-light,  picked  their 
way  to  the  shore. 

In  the  darkness  of  that  long  night's  work  no  man 
knew  his  neighbor.  Men  from  the  river,  men  from 
the  mill,  men  from  the  yard  all  worked  side  by  side. 
Thus  no  one  noticed  especially  a  tall,  slender,  but 
well-knit  individual  dressed  in  a  faded  mackinaw 
and  a  limp  slouch  hat  which  he  wore  pulled  over  his 
eyes.  This  young  fellow  occupied  himself  with  the 
chains.  Against  the  racing  current  the  crew  held  the 
ends  of  the  heavy  booms,  while  he  fastened  them 
together.  He  worked  well,  but  seemed  slow.  Three 
times  Shearer  hustled  him  on  after  the  others  had 
finished,  examining  closely  the  work  that  had  been 
done.  On  the  third  occasion  he  shrugged  his  shoul- 
der somewhat  impatiently. 

480 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

The  men  straggled  to  shore,  the  young  fellow  just 
described  bringing  up  the  rear.  He  walked  as  though 
tired  out,  hanging  his  head  and  dragging  his  feet. 
When,  however,  the  boarding-house  door  had  closed 
on  the  last  of  those  who  preceded  him,  and  the  town 
lay  deserted  in  the  dawn,  he  suddenly  became  trans- 
formed. Casting  ?  keen  glance  right  and  left  to  be 
sure  of  his  opportunity,  he  turned  and  hurried  reck- 
lessly back  over  the  logs  to  the  centre  booms.  There 
he  knelt  and  busied  himself  with  the  chains. 

In  his  zigzag  progression  over  the  jam  he  so 
blended  with  the  morning  shadows  as  to  seem  one 
of  them,  and  he  would  have  escaped  quite  unnoticed 
had  not  a  sudden  shifting  of  the  logs  under  his  feet 
compelled  him  to  rise  for  a  moment  to  his  full 
height.  So  Wallace  Carpenter,  passing  from  his 
bedroom,  along  the  porch,  to  the  dining-room,  be- 
came aware  of  the  man  on  the  logs. 

His  first  thought  was  that  something  demanding 
instant  attention  had  happened  to  the  boom.  He 
therefore  ran  at  once  to  the  man's  assistance,  ready 
to  help  him  personally  or  to  call  other  aid  as  the 
exigency  demanded.  Owing  to  the  precarious  nature 
of  the  passage,  he  could  not  see  beyond  his  feet  until 
very  close  to  the  workman.  Then  he  looked  up  to 
find  the  man,  squatted  on  the  boom,  contemplating 
him  sardonically. 

"  Dyer!  "  he  exclaimed. 

t(  Right,  my  son,"  said  the  other  coolly. 
481 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  What  are  you  doing?  " 

"  If  you  want  to  know,  I  am  filing  this  chain." 

Wallace  made  one  step  forward  and  so  became 
aware  that  at  last  firearms  were  taking  a  part  in  this 
desperate  game. 

"  You  stand  still,"  commanded  Dyer  from  behind 
the  revolver.  "  It's  unfortunate  for  you  that  you 
happened  along,  because  now  you'll  have  to  come 
with  me  till  this  little  row  is  over.  You  won't  have 
to  stay  long;  your  logs'll  go  out  in  an  hour.  I'll 
just  trouble  you  to  go  into  the  brush  with  me  for  a 
while." 

The  scaler  picked  his  file  from  beside  the  weak- 
ened link. 

"  What  have  you  against  us,  anyway,  Dyer1?  " 
asked  Wallace.  His  quick  mind  had  conceived  a 
plan.  At  the  moment,  he  was  standing  near  the 
outermost  edge  of  the  jam,  but  now  as  he  spoke  he 
stepped  quietly  to  the  boom  log. 

Dyer's  black  eyes  gleamed  at  him  suspiciously, 
but  the  movement  appeared  wholly  natural  in  view 
of  the  return  to  shore. 

"  Nothing,"  he  replied.  "  I  didn't  like  your  gang 
particularly,  but  that's  nothing." 

"  Why  do  you  take  such  nervy  chances  to  injure 
us?  "  queried  Carpenter. 

"  Because  there's  something  in  it,"  snapped  the 
scaler.     "  Now  about  face ;  mosey !  " 

Like  a  flash  Wallace  wheeled  and  dropped  into 
482 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

the  river,  swimming  as  fast  as  possible  below  water 
before  his  breath  should  give  out.  The  swift  cur- 
rent hurried  him  away.  When  at  last  he  rose  for 
air,  the  spit  of  Dyer's  pistol  caused  him  no  uneasi- 
ness. A  moment  later  he  struck  out  boldly  for 
shore. 

What  Dyer's  ultimate  plan  might  be,  he  could 
not  guess.  He  had  stated  confidently  that  the  jam 
would  break  "  in  an  hour."  He  might  intend  to 
start  it  with  dynamite.  Wallace  dragged  himself 
from  the  water  and  commenced  breathlessly  to  run 
toward  the  boarding-house. 

Dyer  had  already  reached  the  shore.  Wallace 
raised  what  was  left  of  his  voice  in  a  despairing 
shout.  The  scaler  mockingly  waved  his  hat,  then 
turned  and  ran  swiftly  and  easily  toward  the  shelter 
of  the  woods.  At  their  border  he  paused  again  to 
bow  in  derision.  Carpenter's  cry  brought  men  to 
the  boarding-house  door.  From  the  shadows  of  the 
forest  two  vivid  flashes  cut  the  dusk.  Dyer  stag- 
gered, turned  completely  about,  seemed  partially  to 
recover,  and  disappeared.  An  instant  later,  across 
the  open  space  where  the  scaler  had  stood,  with  rifle 
a-trail,  the  Indian  leaped  in  pursuit. 


483 


CHAPTER    FIFTY-FIVE 

"\XTHAT   is   it?"     "What's    the   matter?" 

V  V  "  What  the  hell's  up?  "  "  What's  hap- 
pened?  "  burst  on  Wallace  in  a  volley. 

"  It's  Dyer,"  gasped  the  young  man.  "  I  found 
him  on  the  boom !  He  held  me  up  with  a  gun  while 
he  filed  the  boom  chains  between  the  centre  piers. 
They're  just  ready  to  go.  I  got  away  by  diving. 
Hurry  and  put  in  a  new  chain;  you  haven't  much 
time!" 

"  He's  a  gone-er  now,"  interjected  Solly  grimly. — 
"  Charley  is  on  his  trail — and  he  is  hit." 

Thorpe's  intelligence  leaped  promptly  to  the 
practical  question. 

"  Injin  Charley,  where' d  he  come  from?  I  sent 
him  up  Sadler's  &  Smith's.  It's  twenty  miles,  even 
through  the  woods." 

As  though  by  way  of  colossal  answer  the  whole 
surface  of  the  jam  moved  inward  and  upward, 
thrusting  the  logs  bristling  against  the  horizon. 

"  She's  going  to  break !  "  shouted  Thorpe,  starting 
on  a  run  toward  the  river.     "  A  chain,  quick !  " 

The  men  followed,  strung  high  with  excitement. 
Hamilton,   the  journalist,  paused  long  enough  to 

484 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

glance  up-stream.  Then  he,  too,  ran  after  them, 
screaming  that  the  river  above  was  full  of  logs.  By 
that  they  all  knew  that  Injin  Charley's  mission  had 
failed,  and  that  something  under  ten  million  feet  of 
logs  were  racing  down  the  river  like  so  many  bat- 
tering rams. 

At  the  boom  the  great  jam  was  already  a-tremble 
with  eagerness  to  spring.  Indeed  a  miracle  alone 
seemed  to  hold  the  timbers  in  their  place. 

"  It's  death,  certain  death,  to  go  out  on  that 
boom,"  muttered  Billy  Mason. 

Tim  Shearer  stepped  forward  coolly,  ready  as  al- 
ways to  assume  the  perilous  duty.  He  was  thrust 
back  by  Thorpe,  who  seized  the  chain,  cold-shut  and 
hammer  which  Scotty  Parsons  brought,  and  ran 
lightly  out  over  the  booms,  shouting: 

"Back!  back!  Don't  follow  me,  on  your  lives! 
Keep  'em  back,  Tim !  " 

The  swift  water  boiled  from  under  the  booms. 
Bang!  smash!  bang!  crashed  the  logs,  a  mile  up- 
stream, but  plainly  audible  above  the  waters  and 
the  wind.  Thorpe  knelt,  dropped  the  cold-shut 
through  on  either  side  of  the  weakened  link,  and 
prepared  to  close  it  with  his  hammer.  He  intended 
further  to  strengthen  the  connection  with  the  other 
chain. 

"  Lem'  me  hold  her  for  you.  You  can't  close  her 
alone,"  said  an  unexpected  voice  next  his  elbow. 

Thorpe  looked  up  in  surprise  and  anger.  Over 
485 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

him  leaned  Big  Junko.  The  men  had  been  unablfc 
to  prevent  his  following.  Animated  by  the  blind 
devotion  of  the  animal  for  its  master,  and  further 
stung  to  action  by  that  master's  doubt  of  his  fidelity, 
the  giant  had  followed  to  assist  as  he  might. 

"  You  damned  fool,"  cried  Thorpe  exasperated, 
then  held  the  hammer  to  him,  "  strike  while  I  keep 
the  chain  underneath,"  he  commanded. 

Big  Junko  leaned  forward  to  obey,  kicking 
strongly  his  caulks  into  the  barked  surface  of  the 
boom  log.  The  spikes,  worn  blunt  by  the  river  work 
already  accomplished,  failed  to  grip.  Big  Junko 
slipped,  caught  himself  by  an  effort,  overbalanced 
in  the  other  direction,  and  fell  into  the  stream.  The 
current  at  once  swept  him  away,  but  fortunately  in 
such  a  direction  that  he  was  enabled  to  catch  the 
slanting  end  of  a  "  dead  head "  log  whose  lower 
end  was  jammed  in  the  crib.  The  dead  head  was 
slippery,  the  current  strong;  Big  Junko  had  no 
crevice  by  which  to  assure  his  hold.  In  another 
moment  he  would  be  torn  away. 

"  Let  go  and  swim !  "  shouted  Thorpe. 

"  I  can't  swim,"  replied  Junko  in  so  low  a  voice 
as  to  be  scarcely  audible. 

For  a  moment  Thorpe  stared  at  him. 

"  Tell  Carrie,"  said  Big  Junko. 

Then  there  beneath  the  swirling  gray  sky,  under 
the  frowning  jam,  in  the  midst  of  flood  waters, 
Thorpe  had  his  second  great  Moment  of  Decision 

486 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

He  did  not  pause  to  weigh  reasons  or  chances,  to 
discuss  with  himself  expediency,  or  the  moralities 
of  failure.  His  actions  were  foreordained,  mechan- 
ical. All  at  once  the  great  forces  which  the  winter 
had  been  bringing  to  power  crystallized  into  some- 
thing bigger  than  himself  or  his  ideas.  The  trail  lay 
before  him;  there  was  no  choice. 

Now  clearly,  with  no  shadow  of  doubt,  he  tool? 
the  other  view :  There  could  be  nothing  better  than 
Love.  Men,  their  works,  their  deeds  were  little 
things.  Success  was  a  little  thing;  the  opinion  of 
men  a  little  thing.  Instantly  he  felt  the  truth 
of  it. 

And  here  was  Love  in  danger.  That  it  held  its 
moment's  habitation  in  clay  of  the  coarser  mould 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  great  elemental  truth  of 
it.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Thorpe  felt  the  full 
crushing  power  of  an  abstraction.  Without  thought, 
instinctively,  he  drew  before  the  necessity  of  the 
moment  all  that  was  lesser.  It  was  the  triumph  of 
what  was  real  in  the  man  over  that  which  environ- 
ment, alienation,  difficulties  had  raised  up  within 
him. 

At  Big  Junko's  words,  Thorpe  raised  his  hammer 
and  with  one  mighty  blow  severed  the  chains  which 
bound  the  ends  of  the  booms  across  the  opening. 
The  free  end  of  one  of  the  poles  immediately  swung 
down  with  the  current  in  the  direction  of  Big  Junko. 
Thorpe  like  a  cat  ran  to  the  end  of  the  boom,  seized 

487 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

the  giant  by  the  collar,  and  dragged  him  through 
the  water  to  safety. 

"  Run!  "  he  shouted.     "  Run  for  your  life!  " 

The  two  started  desperately  back,  skirting  the 
edge  of  the  logs  which  now  the  very  seconds  alone 
seemed  to  hold  back.  They  were  drenched  and 
blinded  with  spray,  deafened  with  the  crash  of  tim- 
bers settling  to  the  leap.  The  men  on  shore  could 
no  longer  see  them  for  the  smother.  The  great  crush 
of  logs  had  actually  begun  its  first  majestic  sliding 
motion  when  at  last  they  emerged  to  safety. 

At  first  a  few  of  the  loose  timbers  found  the  open- 
ing, slipping  quietly  through  with  the  current;  then 
more;  finally  the  front  of  the  jam  dove  forward; 
and  an  instant  later  the  smooth,  swift  motion  had 
gained  its  impetus  and  was  sweeping  the  entire  drive 
down  through  the  gap. 

Rank  after  rank,  like  soldiers  charging,  they  ran. 
The  great  fierce  wind  caught  them  up  ahead  of  the 
current.  In  a  moment  the  open  river  was  full  of 
logs  jostling  eagerly  onward.  Then  suddenly,  far 
out  above  the  uneven  tossing  skyline  of  Superior, 
the  strange  northern  "  loom,"  or  mirage,  threw  the 
spectres  of  thousands  of  restless  timbers  rising  and 
falling  on  the  bosom  of  the  lake. 


488 


CHAPTER   FIFTY-SIX 

THEY  stood  and  watched  them  go. 
"  Oh,  the  great  man !     Oh,  the  great  man !  " 
murmured  the  writer,  fascinated. 

The  grandeur  of  the  sacrifice  had  struck  them 
dumb.  They  did  not  understand  the  motives  be- 
neath it  all,  but  the  fact  was  patent.  Big  Junko 
broke  down  and  sobbed. 

After  a  time  the  stream  of  logs  through  the  gap 
slackened.  In  a  moment  more,  save  for  the  in- 
evitably stranded  few,  the  booms  were  empty.  A 
deep  sigh  went  up  from  the  attentive  multitude. 

"She's  gone\  "  said  one  man,  with  the  emphasis 
of  a  novel  discovery;  and  groaned. 

Then  the  awe  broke  from  about  their  minds,  and 
they  spoke  many  opinions  and  speculations.  Thorpe 
had  disappeared.  They  respected  his  emotion  and 
did  not  follow  him. 

"  It  was  just  plain  damn  foolishness; — but  it  was 
great!  "  said  Shearer.  "  That  no-account  jackass  of 
a  Big  Junko  ain't  worth  as  much  per  thousand  feet 
as  good  white  pine." 

Then  they  noticed  a  group  of  men  gathering  about 
the  office  steps,  and  on  it  some  one  talking.  Collins, 
the  bookkeeper,  was  making  a  speech. 

489 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Collins  was  a  little  hatchet-faced  man,  with 
straight,  lank  hair,  near-sighted  eyes,  a  timid,  order- 
loving  disposition,  and  a  great  suitability  for  his 
profession.  He  was  accurate,  unemotional,  and 
valuable.  All  his  actions  were  as  dry  as  the  saw- 
dust in  the  burner.  No  one  had  ever  seen  him  ex- 
cited. But  he  was  human;  and  now  his  knowledge 
of  the  Company's  affairs  showed  him  the  dramatic 
contrast.  He  knew/  He  knew  that  the  property  of 
the  firm  had  been  mortgaged  to  the  last  dollar  in 
order  to  assist  expansion,  so  that  not  another  cent 
could  be  borrowed  to  tide  over  present  difficulty. 
He  knew  that  the  notes  for  sixty  thousand  dollars 
covering  the  loan  to  Wallace  Carpenter  came  due  in 
three  months ;  he  knew  from  the  long  table  of  statis- 
tics which  he  was  eternally  preparing  and  comparing 
that  the  season's  cut  should  have  netted  a  profit  of 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars — enough  to  pay  the 
interest  on  the  mortgages,  to  take  up  the  notes,  and 
to  furnish  a  working  capital  for  the  ensuing  year. 
These  things  he  knew  in  the  strange  concrete  arith- 
metical manner  of  the  routine  bookkeeper.  Other 
men  saw  a  desperate  phase  of  firm  rivalry;  he  saw 
a  struggle  to  the  uttermost.  Other  men  cheered  a 
rescue:  he  thrilled  over  the  magnificent  gesture  of 
the  Gambler  scattering  his  stake  in  largesse  tit 
Death. 

It  was  the  simple  turning  of  the  hand  from  full- 
breathed  prosperity  to  lifeless  failure. 

490 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

His  view  was  the  inverse  of  his  master's.  To 
Thorpe  it  had  suddenly  become  a  very  little  thing  in 
contrast  to  the  great,  sweet  elemental  truth  that  the 
dream  girl  had  enunciated.  To  Collins  the  affair 
was  miles  vaster  than  the  widest  scope  of  his  own 
narrow  life. 

The  firm  could  not  take  up  its  notes  when  they 
came  due;  it  could  not  pay  the  interest  on  the 
mortgages,  which  would  now  be  foreclosed;  it  could 
not  even  pay  in  full  the  men  who  had  worked  for  it 
— that  would  come  under  a  court's  adjudication. 

He  had  therefore  watched  Thorpe's  desperate 
sally  to  mend  the  weakened  chain,  in  all  the  suspense 
of  a  man  whose  entire  universe  is  in  the  keeping  of 
the  chance  moment.  It  must  be  remembered  that 
at  bottom,  below  the  outer  consciousness,  Thorpe's 
final  decision  had  already  grown  to  maturity.  On 
the  other  hand,  no  other  thought  than  that  of  ac- 
complishment had  even  entered  the  little  bookkeep- 
er's head.  The  rescue  and  all  that  it  had  meant  had 
hit  him  like  a  stroke  of  apoplexy,  and  his  thin  emo- 
tions had  curdled  to  hysteria.  Full  of  the  idea  he 
appeared  before  the  men. 

With  rapid,  almost  incoherent  speech  he  poured 
it  out  to  them.  Professional  caution  and  secrecy 
were  forgotten.  Wallace  Carpenter  attempted  to 
push  through  the  ring  for  the  purpose  of  stopping 
him.  A  gigantic  riverman  kindly  but  firmly  held 
him  back. 

4<W 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  I  guess  it's  just  as  well  we  hears  this,"  said  the 
latter. 

It  all  came  out — the  loan  to  Carpenter,  with  a 
hint  at  the  motive:  the  machinations  of  the  rival 
firm  on  the  Board  of  Trade;  the  notes,  the  mort- 
gages, the  necessity  of  a  big  season's  cut;  the  reasons 
the  rival  firm  had  for  wishing  to  prevent  that  cut 
from  arriving  at  the  market;  the  desperate  and 
varied  means  they  had  employed.  The  men  listened 
silent.  Hamilton,  his  eyes  glowing  like  coals,  drank 
in  every  word.  Here  was  the  master  motive  he  haa 
sought ;  here  was  the  story  great  to  his  hand ! 

"  That's  what  we  ought  to  get,"  cried  Collins, 
almost  weeping,  "  and  now  we've  gone  and  bust, 
just  because  that  infernal  river-hog  had  to  fall  off 
a  boom.  By  God,  it's  a  shame  J  Those  scalawags 
have  done  us  after  all .'  " 

Out  from  the  shadows  01  the  woods  stolr  Injii 
Charley.  The  whole  bearing  and  aspect  of  the  man 
had  changed.  His  eye  gleamed  with  a  distant  far- 
seeing  fire  of  its  own,  which  took  no  account  of  any- 
thing but  some  remote  vision.  He  stole  along  a 
most  furtively,  but  with  a  proud  upright  carriage  ox 
his  neck,  a  backward  tilt  of  his  fine  head,  a  disten- 
tion of  his  nostrils  that  lent  to  his  appearance  a 
panther-like  pride  and  stealthiness.  No  one  saw 
him.  Suddenly  he  broke  through  the  group  and 
mounted  the  steps  beside  Collins. 

"  The  enemy  of  my  brother  is  gone,"   said  he 
492 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

simply  in  his  native  tongue,   and  with  a  sudden 
gesture  held  out  before  them — a  scalp. 

The  medieval  barbarity  of  the  thing  appalled 
them  for  a  moment.  The  days  of  scalping  were  long 
since  past,  had  been  closed  away  between  the  pages 
of  forgotten  histories,  and  yet  here  again  before 
them  was  the  thing  in  all  its  living  horror.  Then 
a  growl  arose.  The  human  animal  had  tasted 
blood. 

All  at  once  like  wine  their  wrongs  mounted  to 
their  heads.  They  remembered  their  dead  comrades. 
They  remembered  the  heart-breaking  days  and  nights 
of  toil  they  had  endured  on  account  of  this  man  and 
his  associates.  They  remembered  the  words  of 
Collins,  the  little  bookkeeper.  They  hated.  They 
shook  their  fists  across  the  skies.  They  turned  and 
with  one  accord  struck  back  for  the  railroad  right- 
of-way  which  led  to  Shingleville,  the  town  con- 
trolled by  Morrison  &  Daly. 

The  railroad  lay  for  a  mile  straight  through  a 
thick  tamarack  swamp,  then  over  a  nearly  treeless 
cranberry  plain.  The  tamarack  was  a  screen  be- 
tween the  two  towns.  When  half-way  through  the 
swamp,  Red  -  J  acket  stopped,  removed  his  coat, 
ripped  the  lining  from  it,  and  began  to  fashion  a 
rude  mask. 

"  Just  as  well  they  don't  recognize  us,"  said  he. 

"  Somebody  in  town  will  give  us  away,"  sug- 
gested Shorty   fbe  chore-boy. 

493 


. 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"No,  they  won't;  they're  all  here,"  assured 
Kerlie. 

It  was  true.  Except  for  the  women  and  children, 
who  were  not  yet  about,  the  entire  village  had  as- 
sembled. Even  old  Vanderhoof,  the  fire-watcher  of 
the  yard,  hobbled  along  breathlessly  on  his  rheu- 
matic legs.  In  a  moment  the  masks  were  fitted.  In 
a  moment  more  the  little  band  had  emerged  from  the 
shelter  of  the  swamp,  and  so  came  into  full  view  of 
its  objective  point. 

Shingleville  consisted  of  a  big  mill;  the  yards- 
now  nearly  empty  of  lumber;  the  large  frame  board- 
ing-house; the  office;  the  stable;  a  store;  two  sa* 
loons;  and  a  dozen  dwellings.  The  party  at  once 
fixed  its  eyes  on  this  collection  of  buildings,  and 
trudged  on  down  the  right-of-way  with  unhastening 
grimness. 

Their  approach  was  not  unobserved.  Daly  saw 
them;  and  Baker,  his  foreman,  saw  them.  The  two 
at  once  went  forth  to  organize  opposition.  When 
the  attacking  party  reached  the  mill-yard,  it  found 
the  boss  and  the  foreman  standing  alone  on  the  saw- 
dust, revolvers  drawn. 

Daly  traced  a  line  with  his  toe. 

"  The  first  man  that  crosses  that  line  gets  it,"  said 
he. 

They  knew  he  meant  what  he  said.  An  instant's 
pause  ensued,  while  the  big  man  and  the  little  face<? 
a  mob.     Daly's  rivermen  were  still  on  drive.    He 

494 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

knew  the  mill  men  too  well  to  depend  on  them* 
Truth  to  tell,  the  possibility  of  such  a  raid  as  this 
had  not  occurred  to  him;  for  the  simple  reason  that 
he  did  not  anticipate  the  discovery  of  his  complicity 
with  the  forces  of  nature.  Skillfully  carried  out,  the 
plan  was  a  good  one.  No  one  need  know  of  the 
weakened  link,  and  it  was  the  most  natural  thing  in 
the  world  that  Sadler  &  Smith's  drive  should  go  out 
with  the  increase  of  water. 

The  men  grouped  swiftly  and  silently  on  the  other 
side  of  the  sawdust  line.  The  pause  did  not  mean 
that  Daly's  defence  was  good.  I  have  known  of  a 
crew  of  striking  mill  men  being  so  bluffed  down,  but 
not  such  men  as  these. 

"  Do  you  know  what's  going  to  happen  to  you*?  " 
said  a  voice  from  the  group.  The  speaker  was  Rad- 
way,  but  the  contractor  kept  himself  well  in  the 
background.  "We're  going  to  burn  your  mill; 
we're  going  to  burn  your  yards;  we're  going  to  burn 
your  whole  shooting  match,  you  low-lived  whelp !  " 

"  Yes,  and  we're  going  to  string  you  to  your  own 
trestle !  "  growled  another  voice  harshly. 

"  Dyer!  "  said  Injin  Charley,  simply,  shaking  the 
wet  scalp  arm's  length  toward  the  lumbermen. 

At  this  grim  interruption  a  silence  fell.  The 
owner  paled  slightly;  his  foreman  chewed  a  non- 
chalant straw.  Down  the  still  and  deserted  street 
crossed  and  recrossed  the  subtle  occult  influences  of 
?,  half-hundred  concealed  watchers.     Daly  and  his 

495 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

subordinate  were  very  much  alone,  and  very  much 
in  danger.  Their  last  hour  had  come;  and  they 
knew  it. 

With  the  recognition  of  the  fact,  they  immedi- 
ately raised  their  weapons  in  the  resolve  to  do  as 
much  damage  as  possible  before  being  overpowered. 

Then  suddenly,  full  in  the  back,  a  heavy  stream 
of  water  knocked  them  completely  off  their  feet, 
rolled  them  over  and  over  on  the  wet  sawdust,  and 
finally  jammed  them  both  against  the  trestle,  where 
it  held  them,  kicking  and  gasping  for  breath,  in  a 
choking  cataract  of  water.  The  pistols  flew  harm- 
lessly into  the  air.  For  an  instant  the  Fighting 
Forty  stared  in  paralyzed  astonishment.  Then  a 
tremendous  roar  of  laughter  saluted  this  easy  van- 
quishment  of  a  formidable  enemy. 

Daly  and  Baker  were  pounced  upon  and  captured. 
There  was  no  resistance.  They  were  too  nearly 
strangled  for  that.  Little  Solly  and  old  Vanderhoof 
turned  off  the  water  in  the  fire  hydrant  and  discon- 
nected the  hose  they  had  so  effectively  employed. 

"  There,  damn  you!  "  said  Rollway  Charley,  jerk- 
ing the  mill  man  to  his  feet.  "  How  do  you  like  too 
much  water,  hey*?  " 

The  unexpected  comedy  changed  the  party's 
mood.  It  was  no  longer  a  question  of  killing.  A 
number  broke  into  the  store,  and  shortly  emerged, 
bearing  pails  of  kerosene  with  which  they  deluged 
the  slabs  on  the  windward  side  of  the  mill.     The 

496 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

flames  caught  the  structure  instantly.  A  thousand 
sparks,  borne  by  the  off-shore  breeze,  fastened  like  so 
many  stinging  insects  on  the  lumber  in  the  yard. 

It  burned  as  dried  balsam  thrown  on  a  camp  fire. 
The  heat  of  it  drove  the  onlookers  far  back  in  the 
village,  where  in  silence  they  watched  the  destruc- 
tion. From  behind  locked  doors  the  inhabitants 
watched  with  them. 

The  billow  of  white  smoke  filled  the  northern  sky. 
A  whirl  of  gray  wood  ashes,  light  as  air,  floated  on 
and  ever  on  over  Superior.  The  site  of  the  mill,  the 
squares  where  the  piles  of  lumber  had  stood,  glowed 
incandescence  over  which  already  a  white  film  was 
forming. 

Daly  and  his  man  were  slapped  and  cuffed  hither 
and  thither  at  the  men's  will.  Their  faces  bled, 
their  bodies  ached  as  one  bruise. 

"  That  squares  us,"  said  the  men.  "  If  we  can't 
cut  this  year,  neither  kin  you.    It's  up  to  you  now !  " 

Then,  like  a  destroying  horde  of  locusts,  they 
gutted  the  office  and  the  store,  smashing  what  they 
could  not  carry  to  the  fire.  The  dwellings  and 
saloons  they  did  not  disturb.  Finally,  about  noon, 
they  kicked  their  two  prisoners  into  the  river,  and 
took  their  way  stragglingly  back  along  the  right-of- 
way. 

"  I  surmise  we  took  that  town  apart  somel  "  re- 
marked Shortv  with  satisfaction. 

"  I  should  *ise  to  remark,"  replied  Kerlie.  Big 
497 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Junko  said  nothing,  but  his  cavernous  little  animal 
eyes  glowed  with  satisfaction.  He  had  been  the 
first  to  lay  hands  on  Daly;  he  had  helped  to  carry 
the  petroleum ;  he  had  struck  the  first  match ;  he  had 
even  administered  the  final  kick. 

At  the  boarding-house  they  found  Wallace  Car- 
penter and  Hamilton  seated  on  the  veranda.  It  was 
now  afternoon.  The  wind  had  abated  somewhat, 
and  the  sun  was  struggling  with  the  still  flying 
scuds. 

"  Hello,  boys,"  said  Wallace,  "  been  for  a  little 
walk  in  the  woods?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Jack  Hyland,  "  we " 

"  I'd  rather  not  hear,"  interrupted  Wallace. 
**  There's  quite  a  fire  over  east.  I  suppose  you 
haven't  noticed  it." 

Hyland  looked  gravely  eastward. 

"  Sure  'nough !  "  said  he. 

"  Better  get  some  grub,"  suggested  Wallace. 

After  the  men  had  gone  in,  he  turned  to  the  jour- 
nalist. 

"  Hamilton,"  he  began,  "  write  all  you  know 
about  the  drive,  and  the  break,  and  the  rescue,  but 
as  to  the  burning  of  the  mill " 


The  other  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Good,"  said  Wallace  offering  his  own. 

And  that  was  as  far  as  the  famous  Shingleville 
raid  ever  got.  Daly  did  his  best  to  collect  even  cir- 
cumstantial evidence  against  the  participants,  but  in 

498 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

vain.  He  could  not  even  get  any  one  to  say  that  a 
single  member  of  the  village  of  Carpenter  had  ab- 
sented himself  from  town  that  morning.  This  might 
have  been  from  loyalty,  or  it  might  have  been  from 
fear  of  the  vengeance  the  Fighting  Forty  would 
surely  visit  on  a  traitor.  Probably  it  was  a  com- 
bination of  both.  The  fact  remains,  however,  that 
Daly  never  knew  surely  of  but  one  man  implicated 
in  the  destruction  of  his  plant.  That  man  was  Injin 
Charley,  but  Injin  Charley  promptly  disappeared. 

After  an  interval,  Tim  Shearer,  Radway  and  Ker- 
lie  came  out  again. 

"  Where's  the  boss*?  "  asked  Shearer. 

"  I  don't  know,  Tim,"  replied  Wallace  seriously. 
"  I've  looked  everywhere.  He's  gone.  He  must 
have  been  all  cut  up.  I  think  he  went  out  in  the 
woods  to  get  over  it.  I  am  not  worrying.  Harry 
has  lots  of  sense.    He'll  come  in  about  dark." 

"Sure!"  said  Tim. 

"  How  about  the  boy's  stakes'?  "  queried  Radway. 
"  I  hear  this  is  a  bad  smash  for  the  firm." 

"  We'll  see  that  the  men  get  their  wages  all 
right,"  replied  Carpenter,  a  little  disappointed  that 
such  a  question  should  be  asked  at  such  a  time. 

"  All  right,"  rejoined  the  contractor.  "  We're  all 
going  to  need  our  money  this  summer." 


499 


CHAPTER   FIFTY-SEVEN 

THORPE  walked  through  the  silent  group  of 
men  without  seeing  them.  He  had  no  thought 
for  what  he  had  done,  but  for  the  triumphant  dis- 
covery he  had  made  in  spite  of  himself.  This  he 
saw  at  once  as  something  to  glory  in  and  as  a  duty 
to  be  fulfilled. 

It  was  then  about  six  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Thorpe  passed  the  boarding-house,  the  store,  and  the 
office,  to  take  himself  as  far  as  the  little  open  shed 
that  served  the  primitive  town  as  a  railway  station. 
There  he  set  the  semaphore  to  flag  the  east-bound 
train  from  Duluth.  At  six  thirty-two,  the  train 
happening  on  time,  he  climbed  aboard.  He  dropped 
heavily  into  a  seat  and  stared  straight  in  front  of 
him  until  the  conductor  had  spoken  to  him  twice- 

"  Where  to,  Mr.  Thorpe?  "  he  asked. 

The  latter  gazed  at  him  uncomprehendingly. 

"  Oh !  Mackinaw  City,"  he  replied  at  last. 

"  How'  re  things  going  up  your  way?"  inquired 
the  conductor  by  way  of  conversation  while  he  made 
out  the  pay-slip. 

"  Good !  "  responded  Thorpe  mechanically. 

The  act  of  paying  for  his  fare  brought  to  his  con- 
sciousness that  he  had  but  a  little  over  ten  dollars 

500 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

with  him.  He  thrust  the  change  back  into  his 
pocket,  and  took  up  his  contemplation  of  nothing. 
The  river  water  dripped  slowly  from  his  "  cork " 
boots  to  form  a  pool  on  the  car  floor.  The  heavy 
wool  of  his  short  driving  trousers  steamed  in  the 
car's  warmth.  His  shoulders  dried  in  a  little  cloud 
of  vapor.  He  noticed  none  of  these  things,  but 
stared  ahead,  his  gaze  vacant,  the  bronze  of  his  face 
set  in  the  lines  of  a  brown  study,  his  strong  capable 
hands  hanging  purposeless  between  his  knees.  The 
ride  to  Mackinaw  City  was  six  hours  long,  and  the 
train  in  addition  lost  some  ninety  minutes;  but  in 
all  this  distance  Thorpe  never  altered  his  pose  nor 
his  fixed  attitude  of  attention  to  some  inner  voice. 

The  car-ferry  finally  landed  them  on  the  southern 
peninsula.  Thorpe  descended  at  Mackinaw  City  to 
find  that  the  noon  train  had  gone.  He  ate  a  lunch 
at  the  hotel — borrowed  a  hundred  dollars  from  the 
agent  of  Louis  Sands,  a  lumberman  of  his  acquaint- 
ance; and  seated  himself  rigidly  in  the  little  waiting- 
room,  there  to  remain  until  the  nine-twenty  that 
night.  When  the  cars  were  backed  down  from  the 
siding,  he  boarded  the  sleeper.  In  the  doorway 
stood  a  disapproving  colored  porter. 

"  Yo'll  fin'  the  smokin'  cah  up  fo'wu'd,  suh,"  said 
the  latter,  firmly  barring  the  way. 

"  It's  generally  forward,"  answered  Thorpe. 

"  This  yeah's  th'  sleepah,"  protested  the  function- 
ary.    "  You  pays  extry." 

5oi 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  I  am  aware  of  it,"  replied  Thorpe  curtly.  "  Give 
me  a  lower." 

"  Yessah !  "  acquiesced  the  darkey,  giving  way, 
but  still  in  doubt.  He  followed  Thorpe  curiously, 
peering  into  the  smoking-room  on  him  from  time  to 
time.  A  little  after  twelve  his  patience  gave  out 
The  stolid  gloomy  man  of  lower  six  seemed  to  2tt> 
tend  sitting  up  all  night. 

"  Yo'  berth  is  ready,  sah,"  he  delicately  sug- 
gested. 

Thorpe  arose  obediently,  walked  to  lower  six,  and, 
without  undressing,  threw  himself  on  the  bed.  Af- 
terward the  porter,  in  conscientious  discharge  of  his 
duty,  looked  diligently  beneath  the  seat  for  boots  tc 
polish.  Happening  to  glance  up,  after  fruitless 
search,  he  discovered  the  boots  still  adorning  the  feet 
of  their  owner. 

"  Well,  for  th'  lands  sake!  "  ejaculated  the  scan- 
dalized negro,  beating  a  hasty  retreat. 

He  was  still  more  scandalized  when,  the  follow- 
ing noon,  his  strange  fare  brushed  by  him  without 
bestowing  the  expected  tip. 

Thorpe  descended  at  Twelfth  Street  in  Chicago 
without  any  very  clear  notion  of  where  he  was  go- 
ing. For  a  moment  he  faced  the  long  park-like  ex- 
panse of  the  lake  front,  then  turned  sharp  to  his  left 
and  picked  his  way  south  up  the  interminable  reaches 
of  Michigan  Avenue.  He  did  this  without  any  con- 
scious motive — mainly  because  the  reaches  seemed 

502 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

interminable,  and  he  proved  the  need  of  walking. 
Block  after  block  he  clicked  along,  the  caulks  of  his 
boots  striking  fire  from  the  pavement.  Some  people 
stared  at  him  a  little  curiously.  Others  merely- 
glanced  in  his  direction,  attracted  more  by  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face  than  the  peculiarity  of  his  dress. 
At  that  time  rivermen  were  not  an  uncommon  sight 
along  the  water  front. 

After  an  interval  he  seemed  to  have  left  the  smoke 
and  dirt  behind.  The  street  became  quieter.  Board- 
ing-houses and  tailors'  shops  ceased.  Here  and  there 
appeared  a  bit  of  lawn,  shrubbery,  flowers.  The 
residences  established  an  uptown  crescendo  of  mag- 
nificence. Policemen  seemed  trimmer,  better-gloved. 
Occasionally  he  might  have  noticed  in  front  of  one 
of  the  sandstone  piles  a  besilvered  pair  champing 
before  a  stylish  vehicle.  By  and  by  he  came  to  him- 
self to  find  that  he  was  staring  at  the  deep-carved 
lettering  in  a  stone  horse-block  before  a  large  dwell- 
ing. 

His  mind  took  the  letters  in  one  after  the  other, 
perceiving  them  plainly  before  it  accorded  them 
recognition.  Finally  he  had  completed  the  word 
Farrand.  He  whirled  sharp  on  his  heel,  mounted 
the  broad  white  stone  steps,  and  rang  the  bell. 

It  was  answered  almost  immediately  by  a  clean- 
shaven, portly  and  dignified  man  with  the  most  im- 
passive countenance  in  the  world.  This  man  looked 
upon  Thorpe  with  lofty  disapproval. 

3°3 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  Is  Miss  Hilda  Farrand  at  home'?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  cannot  say,"  replied  the  man.  "  If  you  will 
step  to  the  back  door,  I  will  ascertain." 

r\  The  flowers  will  do.  Now  see  that  the  south 
room  is  ready,  Annie,"  floated  a  voice  from 
within. 

Without  a  word,  but  with  a  deadly  earnestness, 
Thorpe  reached  forward,  seized  the  astonished  serv- 
ant by  the  collar,  yanked  him  bodily  outside  the 
door,  stepped  inside,  and  strode  across  the  hall 
toward  a  closed  portiere  whence  had  come  the  voice. 
The  riverman's  long  spikes  cut  little  triangular  pieces 
from  the  hardwood  floor.  Thorpe  did  not  notice 
that.    He  thrust  aside  the  portiere. 

Before  him  he  saw  a  young  and  beautiful  girl. 
She  was  seated,  and  her  lap  was  filled  with  flowers. 
At  his  sudden  apparition,  her  hands  flew  to  her 
heart,  and  her  lips  slightly  parted.  For  a  second 
the  two  stood  looking  at  each  other,  just  as  nearly  a 
year  before  their  eyes  had  crossed  over  the  old  pole 
trail. 

To  Thorpe  the  girl  seemed  more  beautiful  than 
ever.  She  exceeded  even  his  retrospective  dreams  of 
her,  for  the  dream  had  persistently  retained  some- 
thing of  the  quality  of  idealism  which  made  the 
vision  unreal,  while  the  woman  before  him  had  be- 
come human  flesh  and  blood,  adorable,  to  be  desired. 
The  red  of  this  violent  unexpected  encounter  rushed 
to  her  face,  her  bosom  rose  and  fell  in  a  fluttering 

504 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

catch  for  breath;  but  her  eyes  were  steady  and 
inquiring. 

Then  the  butler  pounced  on  Thorpe  from  behind 
with  the  intent  to  do  great  bodily  harm. 

"  Morris !  "  commanded  Hilda  sharply,  "  what 
are  you  doing?  " 

The  man  cut  short  his  heroism  in  confusion. 

"  You  may  go,"  concluded  Hilda. 

Thorpe  stood  straight  and  unwinking  by  the 
straight  portiere.    After  a  moment  he  spoke. 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  you  were  right  and 
I  was  wrong,"  said  he  steadily.  "  You  told  me 
there  could  be  nothing  better  than  love.  In  the 
pride  of  my  strength  I  told  you  this  was  not  so.  I 
iwas  wrong." 

He  stood  for  another  instant,  looking  directly  at 
her,  then  turned  sharply,  and  head  erect  walked 
from  the  room. 

Before  he  had  reached  the  outer  door  the  girl  was 
at  his  side. 

"  Why  are  you  going?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  say." 

"Nothing?" 

"  Nothing  at  all." 

She  laughed  happily  to  herself. 

"  But  I  have — much.    Come  back." 

They  returned  to  the  little  morning  room, 
Thorpe's  caulked  boots  gouging  out  the  little  tri- 
angular furrows  in  the  hardwood  floor.     Neither 

505 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

noticed  that.  Morris,  the  butler,  emerged  from  his 
hiding  and  held  up  the  hands  of  horror. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  now*?"  she  cate- 
chised, facing  him  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  A 
long  tendril  of  her  beautiful  corn-silk  hair  fell  across 
her  eyes ;  her  red  lips  parted  in  a  faint  wistful  smile ; 
beneath  the  draperies  of  her  loose  gown  the  pure 
slender  lines  of  her  figure  leaned  toward  him. 

"  I  am  going  back,"  he  replied  patiently. 

"  I  knew  you  would  come,"  said  she.  "  I  have 
been  expecting  you." 

She  raised  one  hand  to  brush  back  the  tendril  of 
hair,  but  it  was  a  mechanical  gesture,  one  that  did 
not  stir  even  the  surface  consciousness  of  the  strange 
half-smiling,  half-wistful,  starry  gaze  with  which 
she  watched  his  face. 

"  O  Harry,"  she  breathed,  with  a  sudden  flash 
of  insight,  "  you  are  a  man  born  to  be  much  mis- 
understood." 

He  held  himself  rigid,  but  in  his  veins  was  creep- 
ing a  molten  fire,  and  the  fire  was  beginning  to  glow 
dully  in  his  eye.  Her  whole  being  called  him.  His 
heart  leaped,  his  breath  came  fast,  his  eyes  swam. 
With  almost  hypnotic  fascination  the  idea  obsessed 
him — to  kiss  her  lips,  to  press  the  soft  body  of  the 
young  girl,  to  tumble  her  hair  down  about  her  flower 
face.  He  had  not  come  for  this.  He  tried  to  steady 
himself,  and  by  an  effort  that  left  him  weak  he  suc- 
ceeded.   Then  a  new  flood  of  Dassion  overcame  hins. 

506 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

In  the  later  desire  was  nothing  of  the  old  humble 
adoration.  It  was  elemental,  real,  almost  a  little 
savage.  He  wanted  to  seize  her  so  fiercely  as  to  hurt 
her.  Something  caught  his  throat,  filled  his  lungs, 
weakened  his  knees.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  to 
him  that  he  was  going  to  faint. 

And  still  she  stood  there  before  him,  saying  noth- 
ing, leaning  slightly  toward  him,  her  red  lips  half 
parted,  her  eyes  fixed  almost  wistfully  on  his  face. 

"  Go  away !  "  he  whispered  hoarsely  at  last.  The 
voice  was  not  his  own.    "  Go  away !    Go  away !  " 

Suddenly  she  swayed  to  him. 

"  O  Harry,  Harry,"  she  whispered,  "  must  I 
tell  you?    Don't  you  see®  " 

The  flood  broke  through  him.  He  seized  her  hun- 
grily. He  crushed  her  to  him  until  she  gasped;  he 
pressed  his  lips  against  hers  until  she  all  but  cried 
out  with  the  pain  of  it ;  he  ran  his  great  brown  hands 
blindly  through  her  hair  until  it  came  down  about 
them  both  in  a  cloud  of  spun  light. 

"  Tell  me !  "  he  whispered.    "  Tell  me !  " 

"Oh!  oh!"  she  cried.    "Please!    What  is  it?" 

"  I  do  not  believe  it,"  he  murmured  savagely. 

She  drew  herself  from  him  with  gentle  dignity. 

"  I  am  not  worthy  to  say  it,"  she  said  soberly, 
ff  but  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart  and  soul !  " 

Then  for  the  first  and  only  time  in  his  life  Thorpe 
fell  to  weeping,  while  she,  understanding,  stood  by 
and  comforted  him. 

50/ 


CHAPTER   FIFTY-EIGHT 

THE  few  moments  of  Thorpe's  tears  eased  the 
emotional  strain  under  which,  perhaps  uncon- 
sciously, he  had  been  laboring  for  nearly  a  year  past. 
The  tenseness  of  his  nerves  relaxed.  He  was  able 
to  look  on  the  things  about  him  from  a  broader 
standpoint  than  that  of  the  specialist,  to  front  life 
with  saving  humor.  The  deep  breath  after  striving 
could  at  last  be  taken. 

In  this  new  attitude  there  was  nothing  strenuous, 
nothing  demanding  haste ;  only  a  deep  glow  of  con- 
tent and  happiness.  He  savored  deliberately  the 
joy  of  a  luxurious  couch,  rich  hangings,  polished 
floor,  subdued  light,  warmed  atmosphere.  He 
watched  with  soul-deep  gratitude  the  soft  girlish 
curves  of  Hilda's  body,  the  poise  of  her  flower  head, 
the  piquant,  half-wistful,  half-childish  set  of  her 
red  lips,  the  clear  star-like  glimmer  of  her  dusky 
eyes.    It  was  all  near  to  him ;  his. 

"  Kiss  me,  dear,"  he  said. 

She  swayed  to  him  again,  deliciously  graceful, 
deliciously  unself -conscious,  trusting,  adorable.  Al- 
ready in  the  little  nothingnesses  of  manner,  the 
trifles  of  mental  and  bodily  attitude,  she  had  as« 

508 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

»amed  that  faint  trace  of  the  maternal  which  to  the 
observant  tells  so  plainly  that  a  woman  has  given 
herself  to  a  man. 

She  leaned  her  cheek  against  her  hand,  and  her 
hand  against  his  shoulder. 

"  I  have  been  reading  a  story  lately,"  said  she, 
"  that  has  interested  me  very  much.  It  was  about  a 
man  who  renounced  all  he  held  most  dear  to  shield  a 
friend." 

"  Yes,"  said  Thorpe. 

"  Then  he  renounced  all  his  most  valuable  posses- 
sions because  a  poor  common  man  needed  the  sacri- 
fice." 

"  Sounds  like  a  medieval  story,"  said  he  with  un- 
conscious humor. 

"  It  happened  recently,"  rejoined  Hilda.  "  I  read 
it  in  the  papers." 

"Well,  he  blazed  a  good  trail,"  was  Thorpe's 
sighing  comment.  "  Probably  he  had  his  chance. 
We  don't  all  of  us  get  that.  Things  go  crooked  and 
get  tangled  up,  so  we  have  to  do  the  best  we  can. 
I  don't  believe  I'd  have  done  it." 

"  Oh,  you  are  delicious !  "  she  cried. 

After  a  time  she  said  very  humbly :  "  I  want  to 
beg  your  pardon  for  misunderstanding  you  and  caus- 
ing you  so  much  suffering.  I  was  very  stupid,  and 
didn't  see  why  you  could  not  do  as  I  wanted  you  to." 

"  That  is  nothing  to  forgive.    I  acted  like  a  fool." 

"I  have  known  about  you,"  she  went  on.  "It 
509 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

has  all  come  out  in  the  telegram.  It  has  been  very 
exciting.     Poor  boy,  you  look  tired." 

He  straightened  himself  suddenly.  "  I  have  for- 
gotten— actually  forgotten,"  he  cried  a  little  bit- 
terly.   "  Why,  I  am  a  pauper,  a  bankrupt,  I " 

*  Harry,"  she  interrupted  gently,  but  very  firmly, 
"  you  must  not  say  what  you  were  going  to  say.  I 
cannot  allow  it.  Money  came  between  us  before. 
It  must  not  do  so  again.    Am  I  not  right,  dear?  " 

She  smiled  at  him  with  the  lips  of  a  child  and  the 
eyes  of  a  woman. 

"  Yes,"  he  agreed  after  a  struggle,  "  you  are  right. 
But  now  I  must  begin  all  over  again.  It  will  be  a 
long  time  before  I  shall  be  able  to  claim  you.  I 
have  my  way  to  make." 

"  Yes,"  said  she  diplomatically. 

"  But  you !  "  he  cried  suddenly.  "  The  papers  re- 
mind me.    How  about  that  Morton*?  " 

"What  about  him?"  asked  the  girl,  astonished. 
"  He  is  very  happily  engaged." 

Thorpe's  face  slowly  filled  with  blood. 

"  You'll  break  the  engagement  at  once,"  he  com- 
manded a  little  harshly. 

"Why  should  I  break  the  engagement?"  de» 
manded  Hilda,  eying  him  with  some  alarm. 

"  I  should  think  it  was  obvious  enough." 

"  But  it  isn't,"  she  insisted.    "  Why?  " 

Thorpe  was  silent — as  he  always  had  been  in 
emergencies,  and  as  he  was  destined  always  to  be« 

5io 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

His  was  not  a  nature  of  expression,  but  of  action. 
A  crisis  always  brought  him,  like  a  bulldog,  silently 
to  the  grip. 

Hilda  watched  him  puzzled,  with  bright  eyes,  like 
a  squirrel.  Her  quick  brain  glanced  here  and  there 
among  the  possibilities,  seeking  the  explanation.  Al- 
ready she  knew  better  than  to  demand  it  of  him. 

"  You  actually  don't  think  he's  engaged  to  me\  '* 
she  burst  out  finally. 

"  Isn't  he?  "  asked  Thorpe. 

"Why  no,  stupid!  He's  engaged  to  Elizabeth 
Carpenter,  Wallace's  sister.  Now  where  did  you 
get  that  silly  idea?  " 

"  I  saw  it  in  the  paper." 

"  And  you  believe  all  you  see!  Why  didn't  you 
ask  Wallace — but  of  course  you  wouldn't!  Harry, 
you  are  the  most  incoherent  dumb  old  brute  I  ever 
saw!  I  could  shake  you!  Why  don't  you  say 
something  occasionally  when  it's  needed,  instead  of 
sitting  dumb  as  a  sphinx  and  getting  into  all  sorts 
of  trouble?  But  you  never  will.  I  know  you.  You 
dear  old  bear !  You  need  a  wife  to  interpret  things 
for  you.  You  speak  a  different  language  from  most 
people."  She  said  this  between  laughing  and  cry- 
ing; between  a  sense  of  the  ridiculous  uselessness 
of  withholding  a  single  timely  word,  and  a  tender 
pathetic  intuition  of  the  suffering  such  a  nature  must 
endure.  In  the  prospect  of  the  future  she  saw  her 
use.    It  gladdened  her  and  filled  her  with  a  serene 

5" 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

happiness  possible  only  to  those  who  feel  themselves 
a  necessary  and  integral  part  in  the  lives  of  the  ones 
they  love.  Dimly  she  perceived  this  truth.  Dimly 
beyond  it  she  glimpsed  that  other  great  truth  of 
nature,  that  the  human  being  is  rarely  completely 
efficient  alone,  that  in  obedience  to  his  greater  use 
he  must  take  to  himself  a  mate  before  he  can  suc- 
ceed. 

Suddenly  she  jumped  to  her  feet  with  an  ex- 
clamation. 

"  O  Harry !  I'd  forgotten  utterly !  "  she  cried  in 
laughing  consternation.  "I  have  a  luncheon  here 
at  half-past  one !  It's  almost  that  now.  I  must  run 
and  dress.  Just  look  at  me;  just  look  I  Tou  did 
that!" 

"  I'll  wait  here  until  the  confounded  thing  is 
over,"  said  Thorpe. 

"  Oh,  no,  you  won't,"  replied  Hilda  decidedly. 
"  You  are  going  down  town  right  now  and  get  some- 
thing to  put  on.  Then  you  are  coming  back  here  to 
stay." 

Thorpe  glanced  in  surprise  at  his  driver's  clothes, 
and  his  spiked  boots. 

"  Heavens  and  earth !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  should 
think  so !  How  am  I  to  get  out  without  ruining  the 
floor?" 

Hilda  laughed  and  drew  aside  the  portiere. 

"  Don't  you  think  you  have  done  that  pretty  well 
already?  "  she  asked.  "  There,  don't  look  so  solemn* 

Si2 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

We're  not  going  to  be  sorry  for  a  single  thing  we've 
done  to-day,  are  we?  "  She  stood  close  to  him  hold- 
ing the  lapels  of  his  jacket  in  either  hand,  searching 
his  face  wistfully  with  her  fathomless  dusky  eyes. 

"  No,  sweetheart,  we  are  not,"  replied  Thorpe 
soberly. 


3** 


CHAPTER   FIFTY-NINE 

SURELY  it  is  useless  to  follow  the  sequel  in  de- 
tail, to  tell  how  Hilda  persuaded  Thorpe  to 
take  her  money.  She  aroused  skillfully  his  fighting 
blood,  induced  him  to  use  one  fortune  to  rescue  an- 
other. To  a  woman  such  as  she  this  was  not  a  very 
difficult  task  in  the  long  run.  A  few  scruples  of 
pride;  that  was  all. 

"  Do  not  consider  its  being  mine,"  she  answered 
to  his  objections.  "  Remember  the  lesson  we  learned 
so  bitterly.  Nothing  can  be  greater  than  love,  not 
even  our  poor  ideals.  You  have  my  love;  do  not 
disappoint  me  by  refusing  so  little  a  thing  as  my 
money." 

"I  hate  to  do  it,"  he  replied;  "it  doesn't  look 
right." 

"  You  must,"  she  insisted.  "  I  will  not  take  the 
position  of  rich  wife  to  a  poor  man ;  it  is  humiliating 
to  both.  I  will  not  marry  you  until  you  have  made 
your  success." 

"  That  is  right,"  said  Thorpe  heartily. 

"  Well,  then,  are  you  going  to  be  so  selfish  as  to 
keep  me  waiting  while  you  make  an  entirely  new 
start,  when  a  little  help  on  my  part  will  bring  your 
plans  to  completion?  " 

514 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

She  saw  the  shadow  of  assent  in  his  eyes. 

"  How  much  do  you  need?  "  she  asked  swiftly. 

"  I  must  take  up  the  notes,"  he  explained.  "  1 
must  pay  the  men.  I  may  need  something  on  the 
stock  market.  If  I  go  in  on  this  thing,  I'm  going  in 
for  keeps.  I'll  get  after  those  fellows  who  have  been 
swindling  Wallace.  Say  a  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars." 

"  Why,  it's  nothing,"  she  cried. 

"  I'm  glad  you  think  so,"  he  replied  grimly. 

She  ran  to  her  dainty  escritoire,  where  she  scrib. 
bled  eagerly  for  a  few  moments. 

"  There,"  she  cried,  her  eyes  shining,  "  there  is  m> 
check  book  all  signed  in  blank.  I'll  see  that  the 
money  is  there." 

Thorpe  took  the  book,  staring  at  it  with  sightless 
eyes.  Hilda,  perched  on  the  arm  of  his  chair, 
watched  his  face  closely,  as  later  became  her  habit 
of  interpretation. 

"What  is  it?  "she  asked. 

Thorpe  looked  up  with  a  pitiful  little  smile  that 
seemed  to  beg  indulgence  for  what  he  was  about  to 
say. 

"  I  was  just  thinking,  dear.  I  used  to  imagine  I 
was  a  strong  man,  yet  see  how  little  my  best  efforts 
amount  to.  I  have  put  myself  into  seven  years  of 
the  hardest  labor,  working  like  ten  men  in  order  to 
succeed.  I  have  foreseen  all  that  mortal  could  fore- 
see.   I  have  always  thought,  and  think  now,  that  a 

515 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

man  is  no  man  unless  he  works  out  the  sort  of  suc- 
cess for  which  he  is  fitted.  I  have  done  fairly  well 
until  the  crises  came.  Then  I  have  been  absolutely 
powerless,  and  if  left  to  myself,  I  would  have  failed. 
At  the  times  when  a  really  strong  man  would  have 
used  effectively  the  strength  he  had  been  training,  I 
have  fallen  back  miserably  on  outer  aid.  Three 
times  my  affairs  have  become  critical.  In  the  crises 
I  have  been  saved,  first  by  a  mere  boy;  then  by  an 
old  illiterate  man;  now  by  a  weak  woman!  " 

She  heard  him  through  in  silence. 

"  Harry,"  she  said  soberly  when  he  had  quite  fin- 
ished, "  I  agree  with  you  that  God  meant  the  strong 
man  to  succeed;  that  without  success  the  man  has 
not  fulfilled  his  reason  for  being.  But,  Harry,  are 
you  quite  sure  that  God  meant  him  to  succeed 
alone*  " 

The  dusk  fell  through  the  little  room.  Out  in  the 
hallway  a  tall  clock  ticked  solemnly.  A  noiseless 
servant  appeared  in  the  doorway  to  light  the  lamps, 
but  was  silently  motioned  away. 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  that,"  said  Thorpe  at  last. 

"  You  men  are  so  selfish,"  went  on  Hilda.  "  You 
would  take  everything  from  us.  Why  can't  you 
leave  us  the  poor  little  privilege  of  the  occasional 
deciding  touch,  the  privilege  of  succor.  It  is  all  that 
weakness  can  do  for  strength." 

"  And  why,"  she  went  on  after  a  moment,  "  why 
is  not  that,  too,  a  part  of  a  man's  success — the  gath- 

Ki6 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

ering  about  him  of  people  who  can  and  will  supple- 
ment his  efforts?  Who  was  it  inspired  Wallace 
Carpenter  with  confidence  in  an  unknown  man? 
You.  What  did  it?  Those  very  qualities  by  which 
you  were  building  your  success.  Why  did  John 
Radway  join  forces  with  you?  How  does  it  happen 
that  your  men  are  of  so  high  a  standard  of  effi- 
ciency? Why  am  I  willing  to  give  you  everything, 
everything,  to  my  heart  and  soul?  Because  it  is 
you  who  ask  it.  Because  you,  Harry  Thorpe,  have 
woven  us  into  your  fortune,  so  that  we  have  no 
choice.  Depend  upon  us  in  the  crises  of  your  work ! 
Why,  so  are  you  dependent  on  your  ten  fingers,  your 
tyes,  the  fibre  of  your  brain !  Do  you  think  the  less 
of  your  fulfillment  for  that?  " 

So  it  was  that  Hilda  Farrand  gave  her  lover 
confidence,  brought  him  out  from  his  fanaticism, 
launched  him  afresh  into  the  current  of  events.  He 
remained  in  Chicago  all  that  summer,  giving  orders 
that  all  work  at  the  village  of  Carpenter  should 
cease.  With  his  affairs  that  summer  we  have  little 
to  do.  His  common-sense  treatment  of  the  stock 
market,  by  which  a  policy  of  quiescence  following 
an  outright  buying  of  the  stock  which  he  had 
previously  held  on  margins,  retrieved  the  losses  al- 
ready sustained,  and  finally  put  both  partners  on  a 
firm  financial  footing.  That  is  another  story.  So 
too  is  his  reconciliation  with  and  understanding  of 
his  sister.    It  came  about,  through  Hilda,  of  course. 

517 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Perhaps  in  the  inscrutable  way  of  Providence  the 
estrangement  was  of  benefit — even  necessary — for  it 
had  thrown  him  entirely  within  himself  during  his 
militant  years. 

Let  us  rather  look  to  the  end  of  the  summer.  It 
now  became  a  question  of  re-opening  the  camps. 
Thorpe  wrote  to  Shearer  and  Radway,  whom  he  had 
retained,  that  he  would  arrive  on  Saturday  noon, 
and  suggested  that  the  two  begin  to  look  about  for 
men.  Friday,  himself,  Wallace  Carpenter,  Eliza* 
beth  Carpenter,  Morton,  Helen  Thorpe,  and  Hilda 
Farrand  boarded  the  north-bound  train. 


518 


CHAPTER   SIXTY 

THE  train  of  the  South  Shore  Railroad  shot  its 
way  across  the  broad  reaches  of  the  northern 
peninsula.  On  either  side  of  the  right-of-way  lay 
mystery  in  the  shape  of  thickets  so  dense  and  over- 
grown that  the  eye  could  penetrate  them  but  a  few 
feet  at  most.  Beyond  them  stood  the  forests.  Thus 
Nature  screened  her  intimacies  from  the  impertinent 
eye  of  a  new  order  of  things. 

Thorpe  welcomed  the  smell  of  the  northland.  He 
became  almost  eager,  explaining,  indicating  to  the 
girl  at  his  side. 

"  There  is  the  Canada  balsam,"  he  cried.  "  Do 
you  remember  how  I  showed  it  to  you  first?  And 
yonder  the  spruce.  How  stuck  up  your  teeth  were 
when  you  tried  to  chew  the  gum  before  it  had  been 
heated.  Do  you  remember?  Look!  Look  there! 
It's  a  white  pine!  Isn't  it  a  grand  tree?  It's  the 
finest  tree  in  the  forest,  by  my  way  of  thinking, 
so  tall,  so  straight,  so  feathery,  and  so  dignified. 
See,  Hilda,  look  quick!  There's  an  old  logging 
road  all  filled  with  raspberry  vines.  We'd 
find  lots  of  partridges  there,  and  perhaps  a  bear. 

519 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Wouldn't  you  just  like  to  walk  down  it  about 
sunset?  " 

"  Yes,  Harry." 

"  I  wonder  what  we're  stopping  for.  Seems  to 
me  they  are  stopping  at  every  squirrel's  trail.  Oh, 
this  must  be  Seney.  Yes,  it  is.  Queer  little  place, 
isn't  it"?  but  sort  of  attractive.  Good  deal  like  our 
town.  You  have  never  seen  Carpenter,  have  you? 
Location's  fine,  anyway;  and  to  me  it's  sort  of  pic* 
turesque.  You'll  like  Mrs.  Hathaway.  She's  a 
buxom,  motherly  woman  who  runs  the  boarding- 
house  for  eighty  men,  and  still  finds  time  to  mend 
my  clothes  for  me.  And  you'll  like  Solly.  Solly's 
the  tug  captain,  a  mighty  good  fellow,  true  as  a  gun 
barrel.  We'll  have  him  take  us  out,  some  still  day. 
We'll  be  there  in  a  few  minutes  now.  See  the  cran- 
berry marshes.  Sometimes  there's  a  good  deal  of 
pine  on  little  islands  scattered  over  it,  but  it's  very 
hard  to  log,  unless  you  get  a  good  winter.  We  had 
just  such  a  proposition  when  I  worked  for  Radway. 
Oh,  you'll  like  Radway,  he's  as  good  as  gold. 
Helen!" 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  sister. 

"  I  want  you  to  know  Radway.  He's  the  man 
who  gave  me  my  start." 

"  All  right,  Harry,"  laughed  Helen.  "  I'll  meet 
anybody  or  anything  from  bears  to  Indians." 

"  I  know  an  Indian  too — Geezigut,  an  Ojibwa — 
we  called  him  Injin  Charley.     He  was  my  first 

520 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

friend  in  the  north  woods.  He  helped  me  get  my 
timber.  This  spring  he  killed  a  man — a  good  job, 
too — and  is  hiding  now.  I  wish  I  knew  where  he  is. 
But  we'll  see  him  some  day.  He'll  come  back  when 
the  thing  blows  over.    See !    See !  " 

"What?"  they  all  asked,  breathless. 

"  It's  gone.  Over  beyond  the  hills  there  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  Superior." 

"  You  are  ridiculous,  Harry,"  protested  Helen 
Thorpe  laughingly.  "  I  never  saw  you  so.  You 
are  a  regular  boy !  " 

"Do  you  like  boys?"  he  asked  gravely  of 
Hilda. 

"  Adore  them !  "  she  cried. 

"  All  right,  I  don't  care,"  he  answered  his  sister 
in  triumph. 

The  air  brakes  began  to  make  themselves  felt,  and 
shortly  the  train  came  to  a  grinding  stop. 

"What  station  is  this?"  Thorpe  asked  the  col- 
ored porter. 

"  Shingleville,  sah,"  the  latter  replied. 

"  I  thought  so.  Wallace,  when  did  their  mill 
burn,  anyway?    I  haven't  heard  about  it." 

"  Last  spring,  about  the  time  you  went  down." 

"  Is  that  so?    How  did  it  happen?  " 

"  They  claim  incendiarism,"  parried  Wallace  cau- 
tiously. 

Thorpe  pondered  a  moment,  then  laughed.  "  1 
am  in  the  mixed  attitude  of  the  small  boy,"  he  ob* 

521 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

served,  "  who  isn't  mean  enough  to  wish  anybody^ 
property  destroyed,  but  who  wishes  that  if  there  is  a 
fire,  to  be  where  he  can  see  it.  I  am  sorry  those  fel- 
lows had  to  lose  their  mill,  but  it  was  a  good  thing 
for  us.  The  man  who  set  that  fire  did  us  a  good 
turn.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  the  burning  of  their  mill, 
they  would  have  made  a  stronger  fight  against  us  in 
the  stock  market." 

Wallace  and  Hilda  exchanged  glances.  The  girl 
was  long  since  aware  of  the  inside  history  of  those 
days. 

"  You'll  have  to  tell  them  that,"  she  whispered 
over  the  back  of  her  seat.    "  It  will  please  them." 

"  Our  station  is  next!  "  cried  Thorpe,  "  and  it's 
only  a  little  ways.    Come,  get  ready !  " 

They  all  crowded  into  the  narrow  passageway 
near  the  door,  for  the  train  barely  paused. 

"All  right,  sah,"  said  the  porter,  swinging  down 
his  little  step. 

Thorpe  ran  down  to  help  the  ladies.  He  was 
nearly  taken  from  his  feet  by  a  wild-cat  yell,  and  a 
moment  later  that  result  was  actually  accomplished 
by  a  rush  of  men  that  tossed  him  bodily  onto  its 
shoulders.  At  the  same  moment,  the  mill  and  tug 
whistles  began  to  screech,  miscellaneous  firearms  ex- 
ploded. Even  the  locomotive  engineer,  in  the  spirit 
of  the  occasion,  leaned  down  heartily  on  his  whistle 
rope.  The  sawdust  street  was  filled  with  scream- 
ing, jostling  men.     The  homes  of  the  town  were 

522 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

brilliantly    draped    with    cheesecloth,    flags    and 
bunting. 

For  a  moment  Thorpe  could  not  make  out  what 
had  happened.  This  turmoil  was  so  different  from 
the  dead  quiet  of  desertion  he  had  expected,  that  he 
was  unable  to  gather  his  faculties.  All  about  him 
were  familiar  faces  upturned  to  his  own.  He  dis- 
tinguished the  broad,  square  shoulders  of  Scotty  Par- 
Sons,  Jack  Hyland,  Kerlie,  Bryan  Moloney;  Ellis 
grinned  at  him  from  the  press;  Billy  Camp,  the  fat 
and  shiny  drive  cook;  Mason,  the  foreman  of  the 
mill;  over  beyond  howled  Solly,  the  tug  captain, 
Rollway  Charley,  Shorty,  the  chore-boy;  everywhere 
were  features  that  he  knew.  As  his  dimming  eyes 
travelled  here  and  there,  one  by  one  the  Fighting 
Forty,  the  best  crew  of  men  ever  gathered  in  the 
northland,  impressed  themselves  on  his  conscious- 
ness. Saginaw  birlers,  Flat  River  drivers,  woods- 
men from  the  forests  of  lower  Canada,  bully  boys 
out  of  the  Muskegon  waters,  peavey  men  from  Au 
Sable,  white-water  daredevils  from  the  rapids  of  the 
Menominee — all  were  there  to  do  him  honor,  him 
in  whom  they  had  learned  to  see  the  supreme  quali- 
ties of  their  calling.  On  the  outskirts  sauntered  the 
tall  form  of  Tim  Shearer,  a  straw  peeping  from  be- 
neath his  flax-white  mustache,  his  eyes  glimmering 
under  his  flax-white  eyebrows.  He  did  not  evidence 
as  much  excitement  as  the  others,  but  the  very  bear- 
ing of  the  man  expressed  the  deepest  satisfaction, 

523 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Perhaps  he  remembered  that  zero  morning  so  many 
years  before  when  he  had  watched  the  thinly  clad, 
shivering  chore-boy  set  his  face  for  the  first  time 
toward  the  dark  forest. 

Big  Junko  and  Anderson  deposited  their  burden 
on  the  raised  platform  of  the  office  steps.  Thorpe 
turned  and  fronted  the  crowd. 

At  once  pandemonium  broke  loose,  as  though  tht 
previous  performance  had  been  nothing  but  a  low- 
voiced  rehearsal. 

The  men  looked  upon  their  leader  and  gave  voice 
to  the  enthusiasm  that  was  in  them.  He  stood  alone 
there,  straight  and  tall,  the  muscles  of  his  brown  face 
set  to  hide  his  emotion,  his  head  thrust  back  proudly, 
the  lines  of  his  strong  figure  tense  with  power — the 
glorification  in  finer  matter  of  the  hardy,  reliant  men 
who  did  him  honor. 

"  Oh,  aren't  you  proud  of  him?  "  gasped  Hilda, 
squeezing  Helen's  arm  with  a  little  sob. 

In  a  moment  Wallace  Carpenter,  his  counte- 
nance glowing  with  pride  and  pleasure,  mounted 
the  platform  and  stood  beside  his  friend,  while 
Morton  and  the  two  young  ladies  stopped  half-way 
up  the  steps. 

At  once  the  racket  ceased.  Every  one  stood  at  at- 
tention. 

"  Mr.  Thorpe,"  Wallace  began,  "  at  the  request 
of  your  friends  here,  I  have  a  most  pleasant  duty  to 
fulfill*    They  have  asked  me  to  tell  you  how  glad 

524 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

they  are  to  see  you;  that  is  surely  unnecessary.  They 
have  also  asked  me  to  congratulate  you  on  having 
won  the  fight  with  our  rivals." 

"  You  done  'em  good."  "  Can't  down  the  Old 
Fellow,"  muttered  joyous  voices. 

"  But,"  said  Wallace,  "  I  think  that  I  first  have 
a  story  to  tell  on  my  own  account. 

"  At  the  time  the  jam  broke  this  spring,  we  owed 
the  men  here  for  a  year's  work.  At  that  time  I  con- 
sidered their  demand  for  wages  ill-timed  and  grasp- 
ing. I  wish  to  apologize.  After  the  money  was 
paid  them,  instead  of  scattering,  they  set  to  work 
under  Jack  Radway  and  Tim  Shearer  to  salvage 
your  logs.  They  have  worked  long  hours  all  sum- 
mer. They  have  invested  every  cent  of  their  year's 
earnings  in  supplies  and  tools,  and  now  they  are 
prepared  to  show  you  the  Company's  booms,  three 
million  feet  of  logs,  rescued  by  their  grit  and  hard 
labor  from  total  loss." 

At  this  point  the  speaker  was  interrupted.  "  Saw 
off,"  "Shut  up,"  "Give  us  a  rest,"  growled  the 
audience.  "  Three  million  feet  ain't  worth  talkin* 
about,"  "  You  make  me  tired,"  "  Say  your  little  say 
the  way  you  oughter,"  "  Found  purty  nigh  two 
millions  pocketed  on  Mare's  Island,  or  we  wouldn't 
a  had  that  much,"  "  Damn-fool  undertaking,  any- 
how." 

"  Men,"  cried  Thorpe,  "  I  have  been  very  fortu- 
nate.   From  failure  success  has  come.     But  never 

525 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

have  I  been  more  fortunate  than  in  my  friends.  The 
firm  is  now  on  its  feet.  It  could  afford  to  lose  three 
times  the  logs  it  lost  this  year " 

He  paused  and  scanned  their  faces. 

"  But,"  he  continued  suddenly,  "  it  cannot  now, 
nor  ever  can  afford  to  lose  what  those  three  million 
feet  represent — the  friends  it  has  made.  I  can  pay 
you  back  the  money  you  have  spent  and  the  time 

you  have  put  in "    Again  he  looked  them  over, 

and  then  for  the  first  time  since  they  have  known 
him  his  face  lighted  up  with  a  rare  and  tender  smile 
of  affection.  "  But,  comrades,  I  shall  not  offer  to 
do  it:  the  gift  is  accepted  in  the  spirit  with  which 
it  was  offered " 

He  got  no  further.  The  air  was  rent  with  sound. 
Even  the  members  of  his  own  party  cheered.  From 
every  direction  the  crowd  surged  inward.  The 
women  and  Morton  were  forced  up  the  platform  to 
Thorpe.    The  latter  motioned  for  silence. 

"  Now,  boys,  we  have  done  it,"  said  he,  "  and  so 
will  go  back  to  work.  From  now  on  you  are  my 
comrades  in  the  fight." 

His  eyes  were  dim;  his  breast  heaved;  his  voice 
shook.  Hilda  was  weeping  from  excitement. 
Through  the  tears  she  saw  them  all  looking  at  their 
leader,  and  in  the  worn,  hard  faces  glowed  the  affec- 
tion and  admiration  of  a  dog  for  its  master.  Some- 
thing there  was  especially  touching  in  this,  for  strong 
men  rarely  show  it.     She  felt  a  great  wave  of  ex- 

526 


THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL 

citement  sweep  over  her.  Instantly  she  was  stand- 
ing by  Thorpe,  her  eyes  streaming,  her  breast  throb- 
bing with  emotion. 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried,  stretching  her  arms  out  to  them 
passionately,  "  Oh!  I  love  you;  I  love  you  all!  " 


THE    END 


527 


r 


^9{ 


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